


Amongst Untrodden Ways

by SecretEnigma



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: And Sometimes Does it Intentionally Too, But only in the sense that there are dimensional counterparts to characters seen in other fandoms, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Gen, Non-Dragon/Demon/Etc Slayer MC, OC Accidentally Spits in the Eye of Canon, Shadow Magic is Awesome, Some Sorta Crossovers, This is Her Family and They Deserve to be Happy Darn It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-09-17 16:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretEnigma/pseuds/SecretEnigma
Summary: She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Welcome to this story! Some of you might (?) recognize this one from fanfiction, but I figured I'd start crossposting it over here too now that I actually have an Ao3 account. I'll try to update in groups until I've caught up with where this story is on FF, with some minor edits along the way. To anyone who stumbled on this story for the first time, welcome to my crazy, I hope you enjoy!

 

     Sometimes, it seemed as if she’d only been dreaming. Sometimes, when the shadows danced under summer leaves and the sun kissed her skin as she walked, it seemed as if the notions she had labeled as fact and the ones she had labeled as fiction were, in truth, reversed. 

Sometimes, she looked back on her memories and was sharply reminded of the times a person dreamed of being awake. Of when the dream was just strong enough, just detailed enough, that when the dreamer actually awoke, they were left disorientated as to which was which.

Perhaps the many years she remembered before becoming Wren were all just the dark conjuring of a fragile mind and had never actually happened. Perhaps **this** existence: this world, this life, these people, had always been hers and she’d just never realized it.

But then Wren would reach up a hand and finger her scar, a permanent testimony of spilled blood, of foolishness, of the loss of **so much** , and the feeling that it had all been a dream would evaporate like drops of water on summer pavement.

No, those years had happened and that world had truly existed. Those people had truly lived, and those hopes and ambitions had really been hers.

And now they were gone forever.

It was at that point in her musings that she would turn away, force herself to stop thinking about the past and look instead to the present. She would run, or pick a fight, or do anything that made her blood sing and the present moment fill her until it had pushed out thoughts of her lost past and locked them carefully away in the most secret parts of her heart. Her past had existed, but it could also not be returned to or changed, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

Especially since if she dwelled on it long enough, that disorientated feeling, like that of a dreamer who could not remember which was reality and which was the dream, would inevitably creep up on her again and force her to wonder over and over one single thing.

If both worlds were real, yet wholly separate and convinced of the fictionality of the other, then which, exactly, was she?


	2. Fractured Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.

Bosco wasn’t like its neighbors. Oh, from an outside perspective, it probably didn’t look much different. Different buildings, different scenery and different quant town customs, but on the whole the same as everywhere else. But anyone on the inside —especially anyone on the bottom of Bosco’s social ladder— knew differently.

Bosco was a rat’s nest disguised by pretty words, winding flowers, and thick woods. A place where children without parents or guardians became less than animals. A place where the unwary were dragged off to the underbelly Bosco would never admit to having.

A place where one wrong step meant being chained, degraded, and sold as a tool to the rich who were too lazy or incompetent to care for their own estates and health.

Then again, perhaps all countries were like that. It wasn’t as if Bickslow had ever been to any of them to check. He hadn’t even seen any part of Bosco that wasn’t the city of Aternum or its near outskirts. The roads were the territory of bandits and slavers and Bickslow had no intention of leaving the safety of his alley network to become someone’s glorified bag carrier or floor scrubber.

Bickslow danced along the rooftops, eyes sweeping the streets below as he made his way toward market street. This week was the Festival of Songs and that meant there were lots of foreign merchants who didn’t have as much skill in spotting and driving off street orphans as the native shopkeepers. Of course, the Festival also meant there were more people on the streets and thus, more risks of accidentally drawing attention to himself.

Energy swirled in the streets and houses below him as he padded across hot clay tiles, eyes flickering from red to green subconsciously as he checked for the familiar oil-tainted signatures of slavers. There were always downsides to life, and the downside to more people and food merchants was that the crowds were perfect for slavers to slip in and out of, collecting a lost child or young adult before any of their potential family members realized they had been separated in the throng.

Green wove with blue and pink with lavender as people bumped shoulders and their energies intermingled without their notice. Bickslow scowled and looked away, quickly ducking to the other side of the roof he was standing on and flattening himself to avoid the watchful glance of a black-encrusted slaver. _Darn it, there are more of them around than last year! It’s going to be tricky avoiding them_ ** _and_** _getting something to eat. Especially considering…_ Bickslow idly raised a hand to trace the faintly raised lines of blue ink stretching down from his forehead and over the bridge of his nose.

He shook his head and resumed his trek, taking a detour around the buildings of main street just in case someone else was smart enough to climb onto the rooftops to avoid the crowd. He stuck to the roofs of apartments, skirting along the tilted secret lanes that ringed either side of Aternum’s side streets.

He was just about to jump over an alley gap when voices caught his attention and made him drop onto his stomach instead, “Agh-! Little brat-! grab her! Don’t let her get away!” Peering over the side of the roof, Bickslow felt his stomach knot from something other than hunger. Three slavers scuffled about in the alley, hemming in the shaking form of a little girl. One of the men was cradling his bitten hand and snarling orders while the other two kept trying to snag the girl’s arms.

Dirty blond curls bounced and flailed as their owner spun and twisted away from the hands time and again, running repeatedly for either the cover of the dumpsters or the alley exit only to be cut off and driven back by the much larger men surrounding her. Bickslow scowled and crawled backwards along the tiles, guilt gnawing at him even as survival instinct overrode his compassion. He had no intention of being captured by slavers and the only way he could feasibly overpower three full grown men was if he used the accursed power that throbbed within his eyes.

_I should stay out of it. It isn’t my fault and I can’t do anything about it without- and I can’t do that so never mind. Besides, she’s just a stranger, why should I risk my life for her?_ Just as he was turning to run away, something surged and knocked him onto his stomach, freezing his lungs and making his eyes snap fully to glowing green defensively. Mist that hadn’t existed seconds ago clouded the air, blocking normal sight and offering an eerie backdrop to the howling screams that rose from the alley he had just turned away from.

_What was_ ** _that_** _?_ Bickslow twisted around, eyes widening even further as his power showed him a seething pulse of darkness in the alley, draining everything near it of heat and light for several terrifying seconds before it snapped shut. _That was-!_ Scrambling to his feet, Bickslow ran. But not away from the source of the cold as everyone else on the streets below were doing, but toward it. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the roof, he looked down sharply.

The small blond girl lay in the alleyway on her back, wide eyes staring blankly at the sky, chest heaving as the mist started to fade. Around her, two of the slavers lay sprawled and groaning weakly, the third was nowhere to be seen. Heart pounding in his ears, Bickslow scrambled down the nearest fire escape and dropped down onto the cobblestones. He hissed faintly at the unexpected sensation of freezing ice biting his bare feet, _ice in the middle of summer?_ That definitely wasn’t natural.

He glanced hastily around the alley, searching for the third slaver to no avail before his still-glowing eyes landed on the little girl again. Grey-smudged red coated turquoise and flickered wildly in time with fearful green in a dizzying display of different emotions. Yet despite the shifting colors, Bickslow could see a kernel of black, the same indescribably dark color as the cold-inducing pulse from earlier, resting behind terrified hazel eyes.

The girl started to sit up, limbs shaking as she looked around, spotted him, and froze, eyes communicating her confusion and terror even more clearly than words. For several seconds, the two stared at each other, the girl’s colors dancing with more and more green and Bickslow’s mind seething with just one thought, _she’s like me, she’s like me, she’s like me!_

Footsteps and yelling voices rapidly approaching their location snapped him out of his daze and Bickslow held out a hand, “We need to go!” The girl stared blankly at his hand, brow furrowing silently and making no move to take it. Huffing, Bickslow reached out and snatched her left wrist, pulling her toward the fire escape he had climbed down, “Run, stupid!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rihanna didn’t know what was going on. Everything was happening too quickly, too loudly, it was too much all at once. The strange boy with blue hair and ratty clothes was dragging her on a wild run across the rooftops of what looked like a stereotypical old-fashioned Italian/European town while people yelled and called in what to her battered, barely-comprehending ears sounded a lot like Japanese.

It was mid-afternoon and the heat beating down on her bare arms and legs could only come from the summer sun, which made no sense because last she’d checked it was late night in the middle of December. In **Chicago**.

Then again, her panic-hazed brain somehow managed to point out, last she’d checked she she’d also been a full-fledged adult, not a stumbling child in an oversized shirt. Also, very importantly, she’d been a full-fledged adult who’d lost consciousness after getting **slashed across the throat with a knife** before waking up just outside a bustling countryside town she’d never seen before in her life. She’d wandered in, hoping to find some help only to get lost, herded into an alley, and attacked by some very unsavory men.

_Is this is how people experience their journey to the afterlife? If so, why Japanese speaking Italians? Why the running? Why the headache, pedophiles, and_ ** _freaking explosions_** _?_ The blue-haired boy who couldn’t have been older than nine —which was disturbing because he was taller than she was— hissed something she barely caught as he tugged her into jumping over a gap between roofs, “ _Koi_! _Hayaku_!”

_Hayaku, faster/hurry up. Koi … come on?_ Rihanna tried to ask why, but nearly stumbled instead as a throbbing sensation bloomed in her throat when she tried to make a sound, _what-?_ Her free hand pressed against her throat, another jolt of adrenaline spiking through her as she realized that there was a definite, diagonal line of raised flesh stretching across her neck. _The knife! It must be from the knife! But why would I have a scar if I’m dead? But if I’m not dead, how am I still alive if it…?_

Her thoughts were interrupted when the blue-haired boy clutching her wrist abruptly dragged her toward another fire escape, “ _Ike_! _Ike_!” _Ike, that means go. Go? Why? Where are we going? What’s going on?_ The thoughts blurred in her mind as she was urged down the fire escape by the boy, her body automatically following his instructions while her brain tried to comprehend what was happening and failed miserably.

As soon as their feet hit the cobbled pavement, they were off again. Running around garbage bins, scrambling over discarded boxes, and winding a twisting path through the unfamiliar town so quickly that Rihanna was soon even more lost than before. When they finally stopped running, Rihanna dropped to the ground, temporarily ignoring her new surroundings as she tried with marginal success to coax her burning lungs to breathe.

She leaned back, only dimly aware of rough brick rubbing her back through the material of her favorite shirt —now so oversized it served as a short dress— and nicking faintly at her scalp. Her feet throbbed from running bare over uneven surfaces for who knew how long and sweat stuck her normally curly golden hair to her forehead. Her heart was pounding so loudly it was sending painful pulses through her skull, _guess I can’t be dead then,_ a part of her pointed out with a hysterical giggle, _everyone knows dead people don’t have heartbeats…_

Motion in front and to her left side heralded a grubby hand lightly shaking her shoulder and a worried voice over her head, “Oi, _daijō ka_?” Rihanna slowly opened her eyes and stared at the boy who she should have towered over yet was now smaller than, brain struggling and failing to provide a solution to the conundrum of his appearance.

Now that she wasn’t being dragged who-knew-where, she was able to study him and let the full magnitude of his appearance set in. _How does a clearly homeless child get blue hair?_ The answer that popped up in her head was just as ridiculous as the question, _the same way he gets ruby red eyes and a giant stick figure tattoo stretching from his forehead down the bridge of his nose. Wait, why does that look familiar?_

The boy was scowling at her now, but the look in his eyes was more frightened than angry and Rihanna realized that she had yet to answer his question. She opened her mouth, the part of her that had had Moriko’s language lessons thoroughly pounded into her brain ready to reply in —heavily accented— Japanese. But as soon as she attempted to push sound out of her mouth, something twinged sharply in her throat and she doubled over coughing instead.

The twinge settled and Rihanna sat up again, hands flying to her throat to feel the raised line of rough skin again, _oh no. No, no, no, no!_ Desperately, she tried to speak again in either English or Japanese, she didn’t care. The throbbing, tingling sensation rushed back and she pushed down a coughing fit to try a simple wordless scream instead. Nothing, no sound emerged from her mouth no matter how hard she tried. Not even a whimper. The twinge in her throat finally overpowered her and she devolved into a coughing fit that sounded far too quiet for its intensity.

The boy was lightly patting her shoulder, as if he wanted to shake her but was afraid to, “Oi. Oi! _Shikaishiro_!”

Rihanna could barely hear him, let alone cobble together the meaning of his words in English. She was unable to process much beyond the overwhelming thought pounding through her skull like a rockslide, _I’m mute. I’m mute. I’m_ ** _mute_** _!_ She pushed air into her throat to whimper and only felt her stress increase when her act was met with resounding silence. Her coughing fit receded and she curled up tightly, hands still clutching her throat in terror as she tried to process everything and failed.

On the one hand, she was in an unfamiliar location filled with people who spoke a language she only moderately understood, and now she couldn’t communicate with them even slightly because she was mute. On the other, a much darker part of her pointed out that the reason for her muteness was that a knife blade had passed through her throat and by all rights she should be **dead** , not somehow de-aged and panicking.

The strain of it all became too much and before she had time to realize that her vision was going dark, her body shut down in an attempt to preserve her sanity.

 

* * *

 

 

Rihanna wasn’t sure how long she had been unconscious, only that when she awoke, it was to surroundings completely unlike her college dorm room. She sat up in a blind panic, looking wildly around at the musty stone walls all around and the wooden rafters stretching above her head for several seconds before her memories flooded back.

One of her hands whipped up to touch her throat again even as she forced herself to take deep breaths and calm down. Panicking and fainting again would do her no good. She had to, somehow, find sense in the madness that had suddenly become her life and figure out what to do from there. _First step. Where am I now?_ Rihanna looked around again, starting a bit when she looked straight up and saw huge bell hanging over her like a gaping maw.

A tiny puff of air that should have been a squeak escaped her and she scooted backward a few inches before a stone wall prevented her from moving further. Her movement caused something to shift on her legs, dragging her attention reluctantly away from the gigantic bell and to the floor instead. Half tangled around her legs was a coat. An old overcoat with only one sleeve left and several patches of incorrect color decorating its back.

She blinked once, then twice, studying the placement of the overcoat and realizing that it must have been draped over her in lieu of a blanket. _Who could have…? Was it that boy?_ Tearing her gaze away from the coat-blanket, she looked around again, spotted a small, circular window and carefully stood up to go look. She moved with caution, trying to keep her steps light and not slide her feet as she walked. She had no desire to get splinters in her feet on top of everything else happening to her.

Successfully crossing the floor without injury, Rihanna clambered up onto the thick circular sill of the grimy window, her unnaturally small frame able to balance comfortably on it as she looked out at the world below and beyond.

It was utterly foreign.

Carefully, Rihanna took slow, measured breaths as she looked out at a sprawling city that never rose more than three or four stories and whose limits were defined by the stone walls rising in the far distance. It looked nothing like what she was used to. Nothing like the towering complexes and apartment buildings with stories in the double-digits and glistening surfaces of steel, concrete, and glass.

Below her was a world of clay and tiles and earthy colors mixed in with the splotches of moving color that were people. Below was a city from a storybook, or a foreign countryside, or a **fairy tale** and beyond it was rolling hills of green forest that only added to the sense of displacement. It was beautiful, no doubts of that. But it was so utterly unfamiliar that Rihanna could only look at it in horror.

Pattering footsteps and the creak of a small door opening had her turning away from the window. The blue-haired boy stepped inside, hands clutching a small loaf of bread, using one foot to push the creaky door shut. She watched as his eyes flickered to where the coat lay crumpled and empty, did a double take, and then started panicking. She blinked in confusion at the wild, near-frenzied air the boy exuded, running over to the coat and lifting it as if expecting to find her hiding underneath it somehow.

When he didn’t, he started running to the far corners, peaking behind boxes and occasionally looking **in** the boxes, presumably for any sign of her. Rihanna tried to cough politely, make a noise that would attract his attention, only to be sharply reminded that her voice no longer worked. Swallowing the unpleasant reminder as best she could, she resorted to the first alternative that came to mind.

He whirled around immediately at her short shrill whistle, startling her with the glow of green eyes before he blinked and they were red once more. _Did I just imagine that?_ Hurrying over to her, he babbled a long stream of breathless words too fast for her to fully understand. Managing to pick out the concerned tone and what sounded like the word “food” and the question “are you alright?”, she nodded slowly before she raised her hands and patted the air placatingly.

He slowed to stop and took a deep breath before studying her intently for a minute. Rihanna struggled not to squirm under his gaze. She was older than him in mind if not —somehow— in body and had come from a rough neighborhood, so by all rights she shouldn’t have felt intimidated. She did though, especially when his eyes dropped down to focus on the —most likely ugly and noticeable— scar running diagonally from the left side of her jaw down to her right collarbone.

His jaw clenched for a moment and she thought she saw anger flicker through his gaze before it vanished and he diverted his attention from her to the loaf of bread in his hand. Ripping it roughly in half, he held part of it out to her, “ _Onaka suita_?”

Rihanna rolled that over several times in her head before tentatively concluding via context and vague familiarity with the phrase that he was asking if she was hungry. Her stomach, ignoring the emotional crisis of her mind and fractured reality outside, chose that cliché moment to growl and she accepted the offered bread with a blush and a mouthed thanks.

She tried her hardest not to wolf down the piece of bread, or think of how such an obviously homeless boy acquired it, but only partially succeeded. The bread piece was soon nothing more than a memory and crumbs she carefully licked off of her —unfortunately grubby— fingers. _I guess I’m more hungry than I thought I was after being attacked by those men and all the rooftop running we did. I guess that’s another point in favor of me being alive somehow … the dead can’t get hungry._

Looking up, she started out of her thoughts when she saw that the boy had already devoured his portion of bread and was watching her, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. Rihanna shifted uncomfortably, trying to figure out why he was staring at her. _He’s way too young to be thinking anything dirty. He doesn’t look more than nine. So what is he thinking? For that matter, why did he help me? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but he doesn’t even know my name._ She blinked silently as the last thought stood out, _Come to think of it, I don’t even know_ ** _his_** _name._

Hoping to rectify the situation, Rihanna looked up and opened her mouth to ask. She then snapped it shut again when she remembered that she couldn’t. _I appreciate being alive and all, even if I’m comatose or crazy right now, but being mute is such a pain!_ Sighing heavily, Rihanna tried to think of another way to ask the boy’s name. Glancing at the grubby window, she snapped her fingers as an idea struck her, _I’ll just write the words on the window! The grime should make the words visible and-_ She promptly deflated when she realized a large obstacle in her way, _and I have absolutely no idea how to write in Japanese. There’s no reason that these people would have a spoken language completely different from their written one and I’m pretty sure I saw signs in kanji before getting herded into that alley._

With the boy watching on curiously, she struggled to come up with another option, _Can’t speak, can’t write … charades then? Guess I have no choice._ Looking back up at the boy, Rihanna carefully placed a hand against her chest and mouthed her name before pointing at the boy. It took three more times of slowly repeating the motions before the non-comprehending look faded from his red eyes and he pointed at himself, “ _Namae ka_?” Rihanna nodded, hoping that she was correct in thinking that “namae” meant the same thing as “ **o** namae” and that he was asking if she wanted to know his name.

The boy scratched the back of his neck and smiled hesitantly at her, apparently sheepish, “Ah, _sumimasen_ , _wasureteta_!” Moving his hand away from his neck, the boy pointed a thumb at his chest, “ _Watashi wa_ , Bickslow _desu_!”

Rihanna felt her thought processes, which had been trying to remember what “wasureteta” meant, screech to a stop. _Wait … did he just say his name was_ ** _Bickslow_** _?_ Her eyes widened and she hastily scanned his appearance again. _Dark blue hair and red eyes, both of which aren’t natural outside of anime and cartoons? Check. Speaks Japanese despite the fact we’re in a surprisingly european-looking town? Check._ Her eyes trailed up to his forehead and lingered a moment before she cradled her head in her hands pathetically, _dark blue stick figure tattoo thing in the whopping middle of his face? Check._ She pushed air through her throat in a groan, but was only rewarded with a strong tingling feeling and silence. Lifting her head from her hands briefly, she double-checked his appearance, noting his suddenly nervous countenance as she did so.

She settled for a heavy sigh, _I’ve just met kid Bickslow of Fairy Tail … if this is my version of coma dreams or hallucinations, my head is even more messed up than I thought. I don’t even know Bickslow’s real backstory, he doesn’t deserve me thinking up a horrible childhood for him._

“ _Ano_ …” the hesitant word brought her out of her surprisingly calm musings over what was going on and whether she was not panicking about it yet because she was in shock. Bringing her attention back to Bickslow, she noted the way his shoulders were hunched and his body leaning away from her, as if expecting a violent outburst. A pang of pain went through her at the sight. She was smaller than he was, there was no reason to look at her like she was about to bite his head off. Swallowing faintly, she smiled at him and held out a hand, hoping to convey a nonverbal “nice to meet you” since her vocal cords didn’t work anymore.

Bickslow stared first at her hand, then at her face, then back to her hand before his posture slowly relaxed and he smiled in return. Clasping her hand, he shook it twice before releasing it, “ _Yoroshiku_ … _eh_ , _onamae wa_?”

Rihanna shrugged helplessly and rubbed her throat, there was no way to convey her name to the fictional child Bickslow. _If this is a dream, shouldn’t he already know? Then again, if this is a dream, my dream, then shouldn’t I be able to speak?_ Not to mention that it didn’t **feel** like a dream at all. She temporarily pushed away that disturbing line of thought. She could figure out her circumstances later, for now, she needed to focus on her present company who was currently babbling something too fast for her to comprehend.

Before she could finish piecing together his statement, Bickslow turned away from her and began looking around intently, muttering random words under his breath as he searched among the sparse items in the belfry. After cycling through the Japanese words for “box”, “window”, “rock”, “bell”, and possibly “dust bunny”, a fluttering sound caught their attention and they both looked up. A small bird had somehow found a way in and was fluttering about in the rafters with a twig in its beak, probably searching for a place to build its nest. It chirped and bounced authoritatively from rafter to rafter, looking at nooks and crannies in the woodwork high above their heads.

It was startled into retreating when Bickslow shouted, “ _Wakatta_!” Whirling on the startled Rihanna, he flashed his infamous tongue grin before shouting in a tone of pure triumph, “ _Onamae wa_ Wren _desu_!” He flashed his tongue grin again, seemingly awaiting a similar reaction of joy.

It took Rihanna a full five seconds to figure out the implications of what he’d just said. When it hit her, she sat up sharply, mouth flopping open in disbelief, _Did he just name me? Like a pet? After some_ ** _random bird_** _that happened to fly into the belfry?_ When Bickslow gave no sign that he was joking, just smiling a tongue-wagging smile throughout twelve seconds of incredulous staring on Rihanna’s part, she gave into the urge to face palm.

_Of course he did. Just … of course he did. At least he didn’t name me Box…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough Japanese Translations:
> 
> 1\. "Come on, faster!"
> 
> 2\. "Oi, you okay?"
> 
> 3\. "Oi. Oi! Pull yourself together!
> 
> 4\. "You hungry?"
> 
> 5\. "My name?"
> 
> 6\. "Ah, sorry, I forgot! My name is Bickslow!"
> 
> 7\. "Um..."
> 
> 8\. "Nice to meet you ... eh, what's your name?"
> 
> 9\. "I got it!"
> 
> 10\. "Your name is Wren!"
> 
> Just a note: The Japanese usage will go down as these chapters go on and Wren's comprehension and comprehension speed increases, so bear with me.


	3. Nine Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.

“Oi! Get back here with that, _Onigaki_!” Bickslow took off down the street, the angry shopkeeper hot on his heels to retrieve the poorly stolen apple. All nearby eyes in the marketplace automatically swung to watch the chase, never noticing the much smaller figure that flitted out of the shadows behind their backs. Rushing up to the apple stand, Rihanna reached up and started grabbing fruit, hurriedly stuffing as many as she could into the makeshift bag she clutched in one hand before running back to the shadowed alley with the stolen items in tow.

Winding her way rapidly through the narrow paths between buildings with a familiarity of one who had inhabited them for far too long, Rihanna kept a keen eye out for any signs of slavers or other thieves. Food was a precious thing and Bickslow’s baiting trick only worked once or twice a week at most. She couldn’t afford to lose the bag clutched in her hands.

Nine months. It had been roughly nine months since she had woken up in a country she’d never heard of, which existed in a fictional world she’d never believed was real. Nine months of running, stealing, learning the language fast for fear of dying otherwise, and getting the notion that it was all a hallucination beaten out of her.

Even the most realistic of dreams had glitches. Little bits and pieces that didn’t fit, sensations that were lacking or sequences that repeated themselves without reason. What she’d been living had been nothing like that. The pain was real, the hunger was excruciating, and the world around too detailed every second of the day to be fake.

She’d had panic attacks about it for the first month or two, moments of curling up in the nearest corner and sobbing silently while Bickslow frantically tried to figure out what was wrong with her. But after those times, Rihanna had forced herself to get over it and push forward. Because if she didn’t, she would very likely end up dead or caught by the unscrupulous robbers and human traffickers that prowled the back alleys.

Thankfully, throughout all the time she had been there, trapped in the body of a mute three year old, torn from everything she’d known and understood, she’d had one constant.

Bickslow.

She still wasn’t sure why the boy had rescued her that day, or why he continued to teach and care for her as best he was able, but she was eternally grateful to him for it. Bickslow, with his irritatingly endearing tongue-wagging smile and rapid chatter, had kept her relatively sane through it all. The part of her that was small, scared, and lonely clung to his warmth and vitality while the part of her that was a fully grown woman felt maternally protective of the precocious nine to ten year old who was her only companion.

Rihanna broke out of her thoughts and stuffed herself in the shadows of a dumpster, breathing lightly as another figure flitted past, dark clothing and tattered cloak marking him as one of the thieves of the city. Apparently, instead of having a magic guild, this city had a troublesome and ninja-like thieves’ guild that stole from the richest and picked up promising street children to instruct in their ways.

Well, all promising street children except Bickslow, and by extension, herself. For some reason, the people of the city seemed particularly hostile to Bickslow, fearful even. They consistently called him “ _Onigaki_ ” which Rihanna roughly translated as “demon brat” or something similar. Though they chased him, they only ever did it when they didn’t know who he was and when he was running away. The few times she’d seen him turn to face whoever was chasing him, the person would take one look at his face, turn white with fear, call him that name, and flee.

It confused her, but she had yet to figure out how to ask Bickslow about it via their complicated budding communication system of charades, whistles, and hand signs. She suspected it had something to do with the way his eyes glowed green at random times, presumably from the eye magic he used in the anime. She didn’t know why he would have something that strange and potentially devastating at such a young age, but again, she had no way to ask.

Carefully detaching from her hiding spot, Rihanna resumed running for the old, dilapidated cathedral that served as their home. It was an old Zentopia church if she read the markings right, but it had been abandoned for many years and its left belfry had served as her home for the nine months she’d been in that world. It soon came into sight, the shortcuts she had memorized between it and the Market District serving her well yet again as she made for one of its walls.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she carefully crawled into the building through a small hole in the wall just big enough for a child to squeeze through. Emerging inside the church between two rotting pews, she clambered to her feet and pattered through the dusty aisles to the stairs leading up to the belfry. Mindful of the various creaky steps that served as their own early warning system, Rihanna was soon in the belfry in which she had first awoken after fainting nine months earlier. Only once she was inside and curled up on the windowsill, the bag of apples clutched firmly to her chest, did she relax. _Another heist successful. Hopefully it went just as well for Bickslow as it did for me._

Reaching inside the bag, Rihanna pulled out one of the apples and began munching on it slowly, taking care not to eat too fast for fear of upsetting her food-deprived stomach. Her stomach did not appreciate her logic and gurgled hungrily at the small, slow bites to which she was restricting herself. As she ate, Rihanna kept an idle eye on the town below through the grimy window she had claimed as her own. People moved back and forth, their shapes reduced to ridiculously small sizes and simplistic shapes because of how high above them she was.

_From up here, they all look like little moving M &Ms with arms,_ a part of her mused humorously. _Not that they look any more normal from up close._ Her face screwed up into a thoughtful frown at that thought. It was yet another difference between this world and her old one. The people here looked to be the perfect blend between anime and real life. Their features were too real, their skin too warm to be fake, yet their eyes were just a touch too big and expressive and their hair colors a tad too varied to register as normal in her mind. Physics and growth rates were quite normal either —see her three year old body and its ability to run around on rooftops all day without needing a nap—.

She had pondered it off and on a lot over the past several months, but the closest thing she had ever managed to compare it to was the Final Fantasy VII movie “Advent Children”, with its motion capture and animation so realistic that she had at first mistaken Cloud in his opening scene to be an actual actor. But even then, the movie didn’t quite get the blend between reality and anime as balanced as Earthland seemed to.

She carefully nibbled around the apple stem, making sure to eat as much of the top and bottom as possible before moving on to munch on the core. Food was hard to come by as a three year old street brat and her nine year old mentor and it was best to conserve whatever prizes they’d stolen for as long as possible. The apples were fresh, if kept hidden in the dark of the box in the far corner of the belfry they would keep for at least a week, maybe two. By then, they would have been able to steal more to add to their stores … hopefully.

The stairs leading up to the belfry creaked and Rihanna tensed, grip shifting on the apple core to make it more easily thrown while her feet slid underneath her, ready to spring from the window at a moment’s notice. A minute or two after the first squeak, two more squeaks sounded and Bickslow came into view. Rihanna dropped her apple core with a silent gasp, setting down the apple bag and running over to steady him as he wobbled in the doorway.

She hissed between her teeth, wordlessly demanding to know what had happened even as he waved her away and went to sit down on their shared coat blanket, “ _Daijōbu desu_ , Wren. Just a few bruises.” Rihanna ran her eyes critically over his frame, spotting the bruises on his arm that looked suspiciously like fingers and the way he favored his right ribs. Several curses flickered darkly through her mind, all of them directed at the heartless adults of the city, and she clenched her fists briefly before running to the windowsill and retrieving an apple for Bickslow.

She returned with the apple and Bickslow shot her a tired smile as he accepted it, “ _Arigatō_ , Wren, _yoku yattane._ ” Rihanna gave him a tightlipped smile at his words, unable to feel pleased about his praise when he was injured in any way. Sighing to herself, she moved to put the apples in their designated hiding place for food. Best to remove the temptation from sight to avoid taking another one.

Moving back to Bickslow, she sat cross-legged in front of him, a frown pulling at her lips. Bickslow paused in his enthusiastic devouring of the apple, a noise of inquiry emerging from his throat as he cocked his head to one side. Rihanna pursed her lips, trying to figure out how to finally express the question that had been bothering her so much. The sight of Bickslow’s injuries had brought her curiosity over the city’s hate and fear of him to the foreground.

After all, if the hand imprint on his arm was any indication, the shopkeeper had caught him. Yet aside from sore ribs, Bickslow had no other injuries and —most importantly— was still running free. She had no doubts that his comparatively few injuries and current freedom were because of how civilians ran away from him whenever they got a good look at his face.

Seeing that she had accidentally garnered Bickslow’s full attention, she hesitantly reached out and touched first his bruises, then his face, head cocking in question. Bickslow frowned non-comprehendingly, “What’s the matter, Wren? I already said I’m fine.”

Rihanna shook her head, frustration starting to bloom. Reaching out, she pointed at Bickslow, then at his bruises, then mimed someone running away and cocked her head again. Bickslow blinked at her once, then scowled, “Are you calling me slow?” Rihanna shook her head vehemently, _I’m asking a question, idiot!_ Finally, she resorted to mimicking the hand motion some of the shopkeepers performed when they realized who they were chasing. With clumsy fingers, she drew a circle over her chest where her heart should be before before pressing her index finger under her left eye and then pointing at Bickslow with a questioning look.

Bickslow went very, very still and for a moment Rihanna was terrified that she had cursed him or insulted him or somehow made him actually angry at her. His head tilted down so that his scruffy blue hair hung over his eyes, shielding them from sight while his fingers clutched the remains of his apple tightly. After several seconds of tense silence, Bickslow whispered, “You … you want to know why people do that when they see me? Why they ward me off like I’m a demon?”

_Is that what that means?_ Hesitantly, Rihanna nodded, hoping that he could still see the motion from under his hair. Whether he saw her nod or not, he continued to speak, “I … the people hate me ‘cause they think I’m cursed. I … my eyes see stuff that they shouldn’t see. I can see what makes people, people. The things they feel, the way they think, if they’ve killed before or are slavers in disguise…” He slowly raised his head again and Rihanna gaped slightly when she saw that his eyes were a vibrantly glowing green.

She had seen them flicker to green briefly before over the course of the months, but she’d never had them directed straight at her as far as she could remember. They were eerie somehow, making her feel naked and exposed and vulnerable even though she knew Bickslow would never hurt her. Bickslow’s mouth twisted downward and she wondered if he could see her fear. His eye magic had never been really explained in the anime in her opinion, mostly because she didn’t fully believe his ranting about seeing souls.

Then again, if coupled with his current explanation, maybe souls were the closest thing he could get to describing what he saw when he used his eyes. Bickslow, unaware of her inner thoughts, kept talking, his fingers idly tracing the tattoo on his face, “My parents threw me out when I first started doing it, even though I never meant to! They … the people here don’t think they can kill me, they think I have to die of natural causes or else I’ll take the soul of whoever killed me and use it to terrorize the city for eternity … or something. So instead of trying to kill me, they … they did this. Branded me so that everyone would know who I am, why I’m on the streets, why they should run away.”

Rihanna felt first shock, then raw hatred for the people of the city. How could they throw out a child just because he could do things they didn’t understand? How could they **brand** a little boy just because he could see things they couldn’t? Do things they couldn’t? How could they? How **dare** they?

“That’s … that’s why I helped you out that first day, I didn’t want you to get branded too. I mean, it isn’t your fault anymore than it is mine and … and I liked the thought of not being alone anymore. Not being the only one.” _Wait, what?_ Rihanna gaped at Bickslow for an entirely different reason, trying to understand what he meant by that. _Not the only one? Not the only what? Cursed child? Bickslow isn’t cursed, he just has some kind of eye magic!_ Rihanna’s eyes widened as suspicion dawned and she pointed at herself inquiringly, _he think’s I have eye magic? I don’t have any kind of magic! I’m from an entirely other world that doesn’t have magic of any kind!_

Now it was Bickslow’s turn to cock his head, “Don’t you remember? When those three slavers had you cornered, you … did some kind of icy, dark explosion. I heard that two of them had really bad cases of frostbite all over their bodies afterward and no one ever found the third guy.”

Rihanna felt like her world had just been ripped out from under her again. _I did that? I did that explosion thing on that first day? What-? Just …_ ** _what_** _?_ Rihanna pointed at herself again disbelievingly and Bickslow rolled his now red eyes, his tone lightening now that they were talking about her and not his own predicament, “ _Hai_ , Wren, I mean you.” Rihanna shook her head in denial and Bickslow scowled at her, “I’m not lying!” Rihanna shook her head again, even more stubbornly, for once not in the mood to soothe the younger boy’s mood swings.

His eyes flashed green again and he lashed out, “I can see it! It’s right there!” His right index finger poked her between the eyes and the instant it made contact, her world imploded on itself. White noise filled her ears as she suddenly wasn’t looking at the world around her, but at a strange, unknown place that stretched for undeterminable miles.

Towering on either side and behind her were the silhouettes of expansive shelves, monstrous things that were at least several stories high. She couldn’t tell if there was anything on the shadowed shelves, mostly because her attention was focused on something else entirely. Namely, her attention was on the looming double doors that stretched high above her head. There were no walls connected to the door, yet she knew without moving that there was nothing to see if she walked to the door’s other side. Not that she was in any state to move, really, she was too caught up gawking at the door.

It was both like, yet unlike any door she’d ever seen. With a rounded top at least two stories above her head, it seemed to be made out of some kind of glossy black stone. Carved into its surface were intricate engravings of … something, she couldn’t place them at the moment but they looked familiar.

The engravings, whatever they were meant to represent, were a dizzying myriad of interconnected swirls, ovals, and star-like shapes that had all been pulled and stretched by some unseen force they were all rounded curves and not straight lines. Inside the swirls and shapes were raised lumps in the stone, all clustered in random groups throughout the larger carvings. Reaching a hand out hesitantly to feel the bumps, Rihanna recoiled in surprise at the icy temperature of the stone.

It wasn’t a painful cold, but it was still clearly freezing, and she was reluctant to touch it again. She started to do so anyway, curiosity overriding her caution, when there was a flash of something Other, a ripple of light and noise and suddenly she was in the belfry again, sprawled gracelessly on her back, panting while Bickslow recoiled from her, a look of terror on his face.

The white noise slowly left her ears, giving way to a sobbing adolescent voice, “ _Gomenasai, gomenasai, gomenasai_! Wren, _daijōbu desu ka_? Are you alright? Wren?” Rihanna blinked away the last of her situational confusion, sat up, and moved toward Bickslow. Her brow furrowed when he flinched away from her, eyes squeezed shut and still stammering apologies, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-! Whatever I did, I didn’t mean it! I didn’t want to hurt you, I just wanted to-! I’m so sorry!”

Taking advantage of his closed eyes, Rihanna lunged forward and caught Bickslow in a hug, making shushing noises through her teeth as she clung to his shaking form. Slowly, Bickslow’s arms came up and he embraced her, his voice small and scared, “ _Daijōbu ka_?” Rihanna nodded against his shoulder, trying to soothe him as best she could without her lost voice.

Even as she calmed Bickslow down and managed to assure him that she was fine and wasn’t about to run away from him like he was a demon, her thoughts were spinning in other directions, _what was that? Was that…? Was that in my mind? What was that icy door? Could that be … could that be what Bickslow saw?_

Turning her focus inward, Rihanna started at the sudden sensation behind her eyes. It was like an ice cube, or a locked door, or the pressure of a headache without any of the pain, or all of those things at once yet not. It was something she had never consciously felt before, yet now that she was aware of it, she realized that she’d been feeling it ever since waking up in Earthland.

Slowly, shakily, she pulled her focus back out to the external world and blinked several times as a realization settled over her, _Holy Pantherlilies … I have magic. I have_ ** _eye_** _magic._ Her inner Naruto fan suddenly jumped up and down screeching hysterically and Rihanna carefully raised a hand to her temple, pressing her fingers there as if she’d be able to feel the source of the faint sensation behind her eyes, _I have a bloody dōjutsu!_

Her hand migrated from her temple to her face as she temporarily ignored Bickslow and reintroduced her forehead to her palm, _I have a dōjutsu. And I have no idea what it does, other than apparently be wildly cold and destructive, and I have no idea how to consciously control it._

_Perfect. Just … just perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough Japanese Translations:
> 
> 1\. Onigaki = Demon Child
> 
> 2\. "Daijōbu desu" = "I'm alright."
> 
> 3\. "Arigatō, Wren, yoku yattane" = "Thank's, Wren, good work."
> 
> 4\. "Gomenasai, gomenasai, gomenasai! Wren, daijōbu desu ka?" = "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Wren, are you alright?"
> 
> 5\. "Daijōbu ka?" = "You're alright?"


	4. Three Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.

Things had changed after the revelation that she had a “dōjutsu” —as she’d privately named it—. For one, she’d set out to learn exactly what it was and what it did, managing to enlist Bickslow’s help in finding abandoned areas to practice in. It had taken about fifty-five tries before she managed to open the door behind her eyes. It took thirty more tries and a lot of mysterious frozen craters in the ground, buildings, and trees before she managed to come up with a solid theory about what it was that she could do.

Roughly speaking, she opened a portal into space. Not hammerspace like Erza did or anything like that, but the actual, freezing cold, deep space that existed between planets and solar systems and galaxies. Specifically, she could open a black hole —yes, the deadly, terrifying things that existed in the places where stars had already died, that black hole—. That was why things seemed to explode —or more specifically **implode** — and freeze at the same time in the general direction of wherever she was looking. A sliver of space, no bigger than a cup saucer really, would open near or in the area she was focusing on, creating an instantaneous vacuum that would suck in matter, air molecules, and heat within a certain radius of itself before the strain would become too much for her and the door in her mind would slam shut again.

Needless to say, she’d become much more cautious about testing her abilities after figuring that out. But despite figuring out that she could do something as dangerous as rip open a hole in space/time, she didn’t stop practicing in between helping Bickslow steal food and other essentials to survive. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the magnitude of what she could potentially do. It was just that she knew she’d need to have full control over it if she was going to survive to see her twentieth birthday again.

For all that it was one of the less bloodthirsty and callous action anime/manga, especially compared to say, “Naruto”, “Bleach”, or “Attack on Titan”, it was still a very dangerous world. The first fifty episodes alone had featured a living flute that could kill anyone who heard it and knock down mountains at will when in its monster form, a giant robot fortress with a cannon bigger than some buildings, a spell ominously called Abyss Break that could destroy an entire city, and the super-weapon Etherion under the control of egomaniac old fogies that could blow up an entire **country**.

And all that wasn’t counting the people who had featured in those episodes. Natsu alone could destroy a town without meaning to, while bad guys like a mind-controlled Jellal or the insane Master Hades could intentionally do worse with a simple command and not bat an eyelash.

If she wanted to stand a chance at surviving the plotline, she needed whatever training and powers she could get. Especially since Bickslow —a crucial if minor Fairy Tail character— had taken to calling her “ _Imōto_ ” two years ago, pretty much ensuring that she had no chance of simply keeping her head down and avoiding the plotline altogether even if she’d wanted to.

Thankfully for her conscience, her ultra-destructive and lethal dōjutsu was not the only magic at her disposal thanks to some slavers, a dark storage shed, and a crazy idea.

 

* * *

 

**Flashback: One Year Previous, Shed in Aternum City.**

 

Children sobbed and whined faintly in the darkness all around her, giving voice to the despair and fear she no longer could. She had made a stupid mistake. A reckless, stupid mistake and now she was going to pay for it if she didn’t figure out how to escape soon.

The slavers had managed to catch her off guard and without Bickslow’s backup while she’d been giving a bit of bread to another street orphan. They had hit her head hard, stunning her while they tied her up and carted her off to a hidden location. Presumably to keep her there until they could arrange transportation out of Aternum and to the nearest city with a slave market —which Aternum didn’t have surprisingly—. She assumed they’d grabbed the other girl as well, but couldn’t be sure in the dim lighting of their current location. _What do I do? What do I do? Bickslow won’t be able to help and I can’t use my dōjutsu against a person without killing them … plus with all of these kids around, I’d probably kill them too by accident. What do I do?_

The shadows were thick in the room, only allowing the outlines of the other children and the walls to be visible. Rihanna felt frustration well up in her. She had no idea if there was anything she could use to cut herself free, and she had no way to ask the others in the room. _The slavers are going to be back soon, if they aren’t directly outside guarding the door already. There has to be some way out of here!_ Her thoughts drifted helplessly to her dōjutsu again and she dismissed it once more with increasing anguish and despair, _if only I had some other kind of magic!_

The thought made her freeze internally. _Another kind of magic…_ Her thoughts suddenly unstuck and started racing. _In the anime, Bickslow had_ ** _two_** _magics, the one he used to make his “babies” and his eye magic. If I could get a second magic…!_ Her rationality decided to check in for once, _Yeah right, like I’m suddenly going to be able to learn another kind of magic on the spot just to help me out of this. That stuff only happens in anime._

Her life for the past two years saw fit to smack her over the head with memories and she mentally amended her sentence, _only happens to the main characters or in bad anime. Even in Fairy Tail, most of the characters don’t randomly learn an entirely new magic just for the situation at hand._

But then again, Erza had unlocked requip magic just from having a combination of belief in magic, lots of nearby tools and pointy objects, and an extremely heightened emotional state. Ultear had been able to use raw magic to blast her way out that Magic Bureau place, and Natsu … well, did she really need to say more? He seemed to get a power-up —albeit temporary a one— every story arc. Rihanna herself had mysteriously gained an dōjutsu she was sure she’d never had back in her old world.

_But really? Triggering a secondary magic? It can’t be that simple._ Rihanna scowled to herself in frustration and doubt as she realized that she had no other ideas on how to escape and that her time to devise a plan was rapidly running out. _Okay, Rihanna, think, what do you have available that you could use in magic?_

She looked around again in desperation, part of her still not believing that she was actually trying to do this. _Urgh … I can’t see enough of the room to tell what I can use! I have no idea how to trigger magic anyway. If only it wasn’t so dark in here!_ Rihanna blinked to herself, _wait. Dark … darkness … shadows … shadow magic! Like that bad guy in the Flute arc! What was his name? K-? Kay-? K-Something, never mind. It’s not important right now. Focus Rihanna! Try to do something with the shadows. Blend in or … become one with them or something._

Rihanna glared hard at the shadows, trying to will them to do as she bid. When that failed, she closed her eyes tightly, trying to ignore the hushed noises of frightened children around her and meditate. That quickly proved a failure as well when her thoughts refused to settle and stay in one place. Panic started to creep up on her again. She was trapped here, not just in this strange world, but also in an unknown location where she was going to be moved and sold like merchandise. She needed to get out, preferably get everyone else out as well, and she was running out of time to do it.

Her thoughts continued to scatter as her breathing became faster. Two years on the streets of Aternum had taught her several things, a strong disillusionment with the goodness of the nearby human populace being one of them. She’d seen slaves before, following their masters or running errands in the streets, normal except for the fact that everyone ignored them. Normal except for the brand tattooed on their cheeks and necks that marked them as property.

She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to become someone’s walking, talking tool to be ordered about as a stranger pleased. She was a girl. A physically small, mute girl. There were so many people from back in her old world, or in Aternum, that she could see taking advantage of that. The things they could do…

_No, no, no, no-no-no!_ Her breathing sped up, increasing to a rate that was not healthy for a person unless they were running. _No, stop! Calm down and think! Think!_

The slavers chose that moment to open the doors to their prison. Rihanna watched with wide, terrified eyes as one of the two men stepped into the room and grabbed the nearest child, a little girl with dark hair save for a grimy yet still white highlight running through it. The girl screamed, struggling and flailing against her bonds until the man slapped her on the cheek, his voice a business-like monotone, “Stop squirming.”

There was no cruelty in his tone, no sneering or laughing at her fear. There was just … nothing. He felt no more about the crying child in his arms than he did over a rake or shovel. The other man barely glanced at the room before he resumed sweeping his gaze over the outside surroundings, ignoring the captives within as his companion made to carry the girl with the white highlight to the cart Rihanna could see outside.

Tear-filled eyes briefly locked with Rihanna’s, revealing a perfect tableau of despair, confusion, and terror that was being completely ignored by the man hauling the girl away. Rihanna’s thoughts slid and slipped into a muddied mess until she had no clear idea of what she was actually thinking. There were just impressions of understanding, knowing, feeling.

In that moment, Rihanna knew that these men truly did not see them as fellow human beings, truly did not care either way about the children they’d ripped off of the streets so long as they got paid. It was not a cruel depravity or vindictive sadism like was shown in the movies, it was simple, total, all-encompassing apathy. In that moment she knew that this was where people —where children— stopping being human and became simply tools — **items** — that happened to have self-locomotion.

In that moment, Rihanna knew what it meant to feel true hatred. Hatred for men who wouldn’t care about other people, wouldn’t even see them as fellow living beings. Hatred for people who would just walk all over her rights as a human being without hesitation unless someone —unless **she** — put her foot down and made them stop. The hatred roared up inside her, bringing with it a primal, shrieking defiance that clawed at her insides until she felt like she was going to burst if she didn’t do something. Didn’t let it out.

So she did.

Sucking air into her lungs, she pushed it out forcefully in a howl of rage that couldn’t be heard, reaching out her bound hands to the shadows as if in command. **_Stop it_** _!_ The shadows —which had originally retreated from the open doorway— suddenly thickened unnaturally and lunged, forming a wave of writhing darkness that slammed into the two men like battering rams. Both men went flying with wordless shouts of surprised pain, the one who had entered the room dropping the girl he’d been carrying as he flew.

Something bloomed in Rihanna’s consciousness, similar to the strange, icy door behind her eyes, but also completely different. It was like invisible velvet running over her fingers and slithering up and down her arms, pooling at her feet before extending out to the still-visible wave of shadows she’d used to attack. The velvety feeling, cool yet comforting and not icy cold like the mental door, settled on her shoulders and sank into her skin, becoming a part of her that she had never had before yet somehow knew.

For a split second, her awareness expanded dizzyingly. Telling her, showing her, letting her **feel** hundreds of people all walking and moving, perceivable to her senses every time they passed through an ambient shadow. Roaring pain erupted in her temples and she curled in on herself with a silent cry, her overstrained awareness snapping back into place with a sharp jerk that pushed away the velvet feeling entirely.

For several moments, Rihanna just leaned forward so her head was almost touching her bent knees, hands curled against her chest and breath rattling harsh in her ears, trying to regain her sense of reality. Slowly, she raised her head again, looking out the open door in a mix of hope and fear. The two men were sprawled against the back of the cart they had been planning to use to transport their living wares, the faint rise and fall of their chests revealing that they were still alive, but unconscious.

The little girl who had first been picked up was now sitting on the pavement, eyes wide as she stared at the unconscious men. Rihanna hissed sharply through her teeth, attracting the attention of every child there, the girl with the highlight included. Locking eyes with the girl, Rihanna raised her bound wrists and nodded to them pointedly, then pointed at the knives prominently visible on the unconscious mens’ hips. She repeated the motions several more times before understanding lit in the girl’s eyes and she scrambled to the men, hesitating only long enough to ensure they weren’t going to grab her again before clumsily unsheathing one of the knives and sawing through her own bonds.

Rihanna watched with baited breath, hoping that the girl would come back and help them instead of running off on her own the moment she was free. The last of the ropes fell from the girl’s limbs and she scrambled to her feet as if to run but then paused. Rihanna watched as the girl stared nervously around her, focusing on the unconscious men for several more moments before turning and looking inside, “W-who did that? Who did that-jan?” None of the other children moved, none daring to take credit for the terrifying shockwave of power. Rihanna slowly raised her bound hands and waved them, gaining the girl’s attention.

The girl stared at her unreadably, “It was you-jan? It was really you?” Rihanna nodded and the girl scampered back inside the building, looking over her shoulder repeatedly as she did. With shaking fingers, the girl shoved the knife hilt first into Rihanna’s hands, “T-thank you, but I can’t- I gotta go-jan!” With that, she turned and fled, leaving Rihanna and the others behind. Rihanna shook away the vague sense of recognition that had swept over her at the girl’s vocal tic, turning her attention instead to the knife in her hands.

Shaking minutely, Rihanna freed herself from the ropes and then proceeded to carefully free everyone else in the room. She made sure to start with the youngest so that they would have head starts in case the men woke up before she was finished. One by one they shot away, some sparing a thankful yet fearful glance her way, others not even doing that.

The girl with the highlight was the only one that day to actually say “thank you” to her face, but Rihanna didn’t really mind. The children, and herself, were free for now and that’s what counted.

 

**End Flashback.**

* * *

 

 

Bickslow had freaked out when she came home, bruised and with rope impressions on her wrists and ankles, and she suspected it was her disappearance and then battered reappearance that had sparked the next change in her life.

A few weeks after the incident, Bickslow had come back with a thick, clearly old leather-bound book that had strange runes and kanji inscribed on the cover. Rihanna had no idea where or how he’d gotten it, but the world-weary look in his eyes had been enough to convince her that she didn’t want to know. She’d been surprised that Bickslow could read, and still wasn’t sure how much of the stolen book he could actually comprehend, but in the end it hadn’t really mattered.

The book had turned out to be about Seith Magic and, after the theft of several toy tiki dolls from a traveling vendor and a few explosions, Pappa and Peppe joined their makeshift family.

Needless to say, the townspeople were now thoroughly, hopelessly terrified of Bickslow and Rihanna.

_Not that that fear helps me much right now,_ Rihanna grumbled mentally to herself as she ducked briefly into a shadow to avoid being spotted in her hunt around the marketplace. Greyscale inverted her vision as cool velvet shadows embraced her, welcoming her into their realm for a few moments before the coast cleared and Rihanna stepped back into the sunlight to resume her urgent quest.

Shadow magic was, compared to her still-nameless dōjutsu, much easier to learn. In the year following her first use of it, she’d already learned how to perform three spells. The first was a refined version of the shockwave she’d first used, one that didn’t give her a migraine and was more easily controlled to go in one direction. The second was using a tendril of shadow to grab or poke something out of her normal reach, which was trickier than it sounded because it needed a lot of concentration. The third was the hardest and one she could only hold for a few minutes at best. It was the act of stepping into shadows, essentially becoming a shadow, unnoticed to all. The third spell had been discovered completely by accident during a retreat from a particularly persistent slaver, but that was a memory to be pondered over another time.

Shadow magic was a very useful power when she had to steal something on her own. Like now, when she was trying to procure something easily swallowed for Bickslow. _Though it would be better if I could get him medicine, rather than questionable street soup._ Rihanna frowned and glanced over her shoulder, worry overtaking her at the reasons behind her current excursion.

Bickslow was sick. Very, very sick. So sick that he refused to move from underneath the blanket they’d stolen last winter and couldn’t keep down hard foods like fruits and dry breads. Rihanna was trying her best to help him, spending nights mopping his feverish forehead and days hunting for clean water and soups that she could steal to try to feed him. She knew he needed medicine, but she had no money to pay for a doctor and no idea what to steal for him to make him feel better.

She rubbed one tired eye with the heel of her hand, fighting the fatigue that plagued her and threatened to make her slip up. Shaking her head to clear it, she focused on the ramen stand just up ahead. Taking a deep breath, she carefully slipped into a position nearby where she could see into the stand, but remain unnoticed by passersby.

_Come on, come on, someone’s got to want ramen at this time of day…_ She waited for what felt like an eternity, and just as she was starting to fight the urge to doze, a young teen ducked into the ramen stand and ordered miso. Rihanna tensed, one hand twitching as she coaxed a single tendril of shadow into forming. It slithered carefully over the ground, inching to a stop at the base of the ramen bar next to the young man’s seat. The time waiting for the ramen to be served was agonizing, with Rihanna’s building adrenaline fighting an uphill battle with the fatigue that had stubbornly settled in after three nights in a row of tending to Bickslow.

To distract herself from how tired she was, she focused her gaze on the teen, examining his appearance for signs of trouble. He was positioned in such a way that she could only see his left side, but he looked normal enough despite the way his clothing indicated that he was not from Aternum. He was wearing a sleeveless, formfitting red shirt with gold edging and a surprisingly high collar that hid most of his neck. He had turquoise eyes that looked at everything animatedly while his black hair bobbed and fell in soft, wavy spikes around his ears. His legs were encased in black cargo pants and his entire outfit was rounded off with practical lace-up boots.

All-in-all, he was fairly good-looking, but didn’t particularly stand out to her except for the way he held himself. Something about his posture and the way his turquoise eyes constantly moved stood out to Rihanna and made her wary. She shook it off when the owner of the ramen stand finally set the bowl of steaming soup down in front of the teen.

Taking a deep breath, Rihanna reached out to the velvety shadow tendril and sent it shooting up the bar. It suddenly detached from the wood surface, becoming three-dimensional just as it reached the bowl. Her fingers curled slightly and the shadow tendril coiled tightly around the bowl in response. The shopkeeper leapt backward with a yell of terror while the teen customer fell off of his chair with a surprised shout. Rihanna ignored their cries as she pulled her hand back, dragging the shadow tendril and its slightly sloshing prize back to her position with as much speed as she dared.

Grabbing the hot bowl with both hands the moment it was in reach, she dropped the shadow tendril and took off down the nearest alley, heart hammering as she heard an unfamiliar voice yell, “Oi! Wait! Come back with that!”

Rihanna dared to glance over her shoulder before quickly looking back to where she was going with an inward curse. The teen was following her, half an alley behind and catching up by way of his longer legs, “O-oi! I said wait!” Rihanna spun around a corner, hissing in pain as some of the hot soup sloshed over the lip of the bowl and splashed scaldingly over her fingers. Behind her, she heard a crash and clatter of the teen overshooting the turn and bouncing off one of the dumpsters. Rihanna forced her legs to go faster, trying to put extra distance between herself and the teen from whom she had stolen.

_Come on! Come on!_ The Restaurant District was closer to the old church than the Market District, with the alley shortcuts she’d long since memorized decreasing the distance even further. If she could just break eye contact and get into the church before her pursuer caught up and spotted her again-

The clear stretch of alley leading to the church suddenly gained an obstacle and, unable to stop, Rihanna crashed directly into it, spilling hot ramen soup everywhere and sending the bowl flying and clattering to the ground a short distance away. Rihanna recoiled, the burning sensation that had been localized to her fingers now having been spread to her lower arms and legs by the crash. She exhaled sharply in what used to be a cry of pain as she overbalanced and fell hard onto her rear.

It took a moment of dazedly blinking away the tears her frustration and hurt had summoned to realize that the obstacle she had crashed into was in pain as well, “Ow, ow, **ow**. Darn that’s hot…” She looked up, breath catching in shock when she accidentally met the gaze of the teen with turquoise eyes. _How did he get ahead of me? He just appeared out of nowhere!_

That thought was pushed aside by another, far more distressing realization, _the ramen!_ With a gasp, she rolled to her hands and knees and scrabbled over to the discarded bowl, despairing when she saw that most of its contents were now scattered all over the alley ground. Pulling it’s slick surface closer to her, she stared down at the pitiful amount of still edible food left in the bowl and tried once more to blink back tears. _I can’t give Bickslow the ramen that got on the ground, that would be unsanitary enough for a healthy person, let alone a sick boy! But this … there’s not even enough liquid left to help him keep it down._

Her cheeks became wet and her shoulders hitched as she lost the war with her tears and they started rolling freely downward, heedless of her mental scolding that as an adult in mind, if not body, she should calm down and think of another solution. A hand cautiously touched her shoulder and she flinched violently away, scrambling backward and still clutching what remained of the ramen to her chest possessively.

The teen pulled his hand back slightly, an unsure look on his face, “Hey, whoa! I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted you to stop running.” He saw her tears and his expression became distinctly panicky, “O-oi, oi! Don’t cry! Are you burned? I didn’t think you’d crash into me like that, the bowl didn’t chip and cut you did it? Hey…”

He reached out to touch her again and Rihanna snarled silently, rage sparking from the fuel of her frustration and worry. _Get away from me!_ The shadows swirled at her feet and launched at him, sending him crashing into the opposite wall with a rush of expelled air from his lungs. The teen collapsed and Rihanna took her chance, leaping to her feet and running away again, still clutching the bowl. It probably didn’t have enough liquid left to help Bickslow keep it down, but she didn’t have time hunt down another bowl of soup and she had to try giving him **something**.

She hastily circled around to the hole in the church wall —which had been accidentally widened four months ago by a training accident with her dōjutsu— and made for the belfry as fast as she dared with the remnants of her precious cargo. The stairs creaked under her heedless steps and the door groaned on rusty hinges as she pushed it open and stepped inside before kicking it shut with her foot.

Pappa listlessly stirred from where it was lying against Bickslow’s huddled form, glowing green eyes unnaturally dim. It twitched as if in greeting, unable to make even the squeakiest of voices because of how sick and tired its master was. Pippi didn’t even do that much, its eyes so dim she was afraid for a moment that it had gone completely dormant.

Rihanna chewed her lip in worry. The activity of Bickslow’s “babies” often reflected his own emotional or physical status and if they were so listless… _he’s getting worse._ Crouching down, Rihanna set the bowl down, moving away from Bickslow’s side only to retrieve the spoon she’d managed to steal soon after Bickslow had first fallen ill.

Settling down on his left side, Rihanna lightly shook his shoulder, trying to wake him up. When he didn’t stir, she shook him harder, letting a whistle escape her lips in an effort to wake him up. At this, Bickslow groaned, tilting his head away from the noise, but otherwise showing no signs of being awake. Rihanna felt her worried frown deepen as something frantic bloomed in her chest. Moving her hand away from his shoulder, she pressed the back of it against his forehead and almost recoiled at its temperature. _He’s way too hot. His fever’s only getting worse. What do I do?_ Setting the spoon down, she grabbed both of Bickslow’s shoulders and shook them, whistling at a louder and louder volume in the hopes it would wake him up.

She was so absorbed in trying to wake Bickslow up —because being that deeply unconscious while running a fever that high **couldn’t** be a good sign— she didn’t hear the telltale creaking of the stairs behind her. It wasn’t until the door squealed in protest to being opened that she whipped around, eyes wide in panic. The teen she’d stolen the ramen from was standing in the doorway, his eyes fastened on Bickslow and her, mouth partially open as if to say something.

Three years of instinct formed on Aternum’s street and a healthy Chicago street paranoia had Rihanna stumbling to place herself between the teen and Bickslow, arms spread and senses reaching for the shadows. _Why couldn’t he just give up and leave us alone? Why?_ Rihanna gritted her teeth, ready to do something, anything, should the teen make a threatening move.

Her mind almost stalled when instead, he crouched down in the doorway and held up his hands in a surrender, “Whoa, hey, easy. I’m not going to hurt either of you.” His eyes drifted briefly to the abandoned bowl of ramen before flicking back to her, “That’s why you stole my ramen, huh? To help him?” Rihanna glared silently, barely allowing herself to respond with a curt nod. The teen leaned a bit to one side to look past her at Bickslow and Rihanna defensively rearranged her position.

The teen was frowning now, his expression troubled, “He doesn’t look so good…” _No kidding Mister Obvious._ Rihanna intensified her glare, trying to communicate that he should go away. Instead of leaving or turning into a convenient pile of ash under her glare, he held out a hand toward her, “He needs a doctor, badly. Do you know where to find one? Is there a hospital nearby?”

Rihanna’s jaw tightened, her heart waging a war between paranoia and hope for help. Slowly, she shook her head. Even if she did somehow have the money and means to take Bickslow to the local hospital, no one would treat him. The townspeople might not dare to intentionally hurt him themselves, but that didn’t mean they weren’t perfectly willing to let him die on his own. Aternum was a weirdly bipolar city like that. They didn’t mind everyday magic, or even the occasional mage from what she’d seen, but Bickslow’s eye magic … they hated him for it and would like nothing better than to see him die because of it.

The teen stood up and took a step further into the belfry, causing Rihanna to tense despite herself. She’d spent three years trusting only Bickslow, and an entire lifetime before that trusting only a handful of people. This stranger who had chased her so stubbornly and made her spill the precious ramen was definitely **not** on her list of trusted people. Or even the maybe-trustworthy-as-an-acquaintance list. Seeing her tensing and perhaps remembering the way she’d sent him flying into a wall last time, he stopped, “Easy, I just want to help you.”

Rihanna narrowed her eyes, trying to silently demand why he would want to help Bickslow and her of all people. Luckily for her short, frayed temper, he got the question behind her narrowed eyes immediately. His answer however, was nothing like what she expected. Crouching again, he smiled faintly, “I’m from a guild in the kingdom of Fiore. That means it’s my job to help people. Ah, but I haven’t even told you my name.” He twisted at the waist so that she could see his right shoulder as he introduced himself, showing off his guild mark in its entirety as he introduced himself to a stunned Rihanna, “My name is Mest. Mest Gryder of Fairy Tail.”

Rihanna felt her thoughts stop, restart, then shut down again as she stared unashamedly at the proud, iconic little symbol emblazoned on the teen- on Mest’s right shoulder. _He … Fairy Tail? Really and truly Fairy Tail? I don’t even- What kind of freak circumstances would cause a member of Fairy Tail to find us? Seriously?_ “ _Ano_ …” The hesitant mumble had her gaze snapping reluctantly away from the iconic red symbol to scrutinize Mest’s face. _Fairy Tail … can I really trust him? Everyone who is a part of Fairy Tail in the anime are really, really kind and amazing people but is that true in reality?_

_Do I even have a choice?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note here on Bickslow's Sith Magic: I'm changing it from the canon "steals souls and puts them in inanimate objects" to Bickslow being able to animate the object itself using pieces of his own raw magic. Sorta like having an imaginary friend that can interact with the world (and shoot lasers). Because the "stealing souls" thing, while great for intimidating an enemy, is very much NOT a magic I could see Makarov allowing in his guild. Just ... nope. Not touching that.


	5. Rescue From Aternum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.

Mest watched a multitude of emotions wrestle with each other behind the girl’s eyes and felt the urge to punch someone rise up very strongly within him. No child should be out on the streets without a home. No child should be so small and obviously underfed. No child should feel the need to shield her sick sibling with her body as if expecting an attack. No child should look at someone who wanted to help her with such paranoid, old eyes. _Maybe that’s because no one else has ever tried to help her. Or her friend._

Something in him stomach flipped at that thought. He was only in Aternum by happenstance. A whim that had caused him to teleport across the border of Fiore and Bosco to visit a famous tourist site despite it not being a festival week. If he hadn’t come along to help, what would have happened to the little girl and her ill friend? _Because I_ ** _will_** _help, even if I have to forcibly teleport them back to Fiore to do it._

Taking a deep breath to ensure none of his anger would leak through and frighten the girl, he said softly, “Let me help you … please.”

Hazel eyes stared into his, as if trying to see beyond them and into his very soul. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, head tilted to study him and inadvertently revealing the ugly scar running across her throat. Anger spiked through him again as he suddenly got a suspicion on why she hadn’t spoken to him at all. His suspicion and plans for revenge on whoever inflicted such a scar were pushed aside as, with a hesitance that was heartbreaking, the girl nodded.

He smiled down at her, “Good. Uh … are you sure there’s no hospital nearby I can take you? I’ll pay for it…” The girl’s face morphed into a scowl as she shook her head vehemently. Seeing his confused expression, she pointed a shaking hand at the sick boy’s forehead. Mest came further into the room to get a better look at what she was pointing at. He blinked when he spotted the dark blue stick-figure tattoo displayed prominently on the feverish forehead. He glanced at the little girl again, puzzled, “Uh….”

She glared at him in a way that clearly conveyed to him what her opinion on his intelligence level was. She looked around the belfry for a moment before giving a inaudible sigh and pointing first at the stick-figure tattoo, then at the long scar running across her throat. She repeated the motion a few times and then looked at him expectantly.

Mest tried to put together what she meant and came up blank, “You … got the scar the same time he go the tattoo? What does that have to do with the hospital?” She shook her head and he tried again, “That thing is a scar? But it’s colored, it can’t be a scar.” She shook her head again and Mest sighed with impatience, “I don’t think your friend has time for charades right now, so we should just get going. I’m going to pick him up now, you’ll follow me, right?”

The girl nodded and watched warily as he carefully bundled the feverish boy and his ratty blanket into his arms. He grunted at the child’s weight even though he suspected that it was far less than it should have been. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the girl carefully gather up two tiki dolls and an antique book before following him down the stairs and out of the abandoned church.

The old, partially rotted wooden doors were standing open, just as he’d left them when he’d wandered in, and Mest wasted no time in exiting the old building and making for a more populated section of Aternum. The girl followed on his heels, looking increasingly nervous, then outright horrified as Mest approached the first civilian to cross their path. Ignoring her insistent tugging on his shirt, he hurried over to the well-to-do man, “Excuse me! This boy needs a doctor right away, which way is the nearest hospital?”

The man stepped toward him, an expression on concern on his face, “Oh, it’s-” The man’s expression suddenly faltered when he caught sight of the boy’s face and then he physically recoiled, “The demon!”

Mest blinked, “Excuse me?”

The man pointed a shaking figure at the sick boy in Mest’s arms and hissed, “No doctor will even touch that … that **demon**! It is a soul-stealer! You should put it back where you found it and pray it finally dies!” A low hissing sound drew both of their attention down to the girl by Mest’s leg. Her teeth were bared at the man like a dog, one hand clutching the tiki dolls and book to her chest and the other fisted firmly in the lower back of Mest’s shirt. Her expression was filled with a knowing, an utter loathing, that no person should be able to convey, especially not a child.

The man bared his teeth back at her even as he back up even more, his shouting beginning to attract the attention of the other passersby, “The tainted child! The one the demon corrupted! Get away! Get away **monster**!”

Mest felt his temper explode, “How dare you call her that? Call either of them that? They’re just **kids**!”

The man stared unreadably at Mest, “Those things are not children! They are plagues upon our town that you would do well to avoid before they irrevocably taint you as well!”

Mest’s outraged reply got stuck in his throat when he realized that they were surrounded by a crowd of Aternum citizens … all of whom were nodding and grumbling in agreement with the man who had spoken so cruelly. He looked around, searching the crowd for a single face, a single sign that the entire town wasn’t hateful and against two homeless little children. However, he saw nothing but the same opinion, the same belief as the first man reflected in each face and voice.

A wordless snarl of rage exploded from his throat as he held the boy closer to his chest, _of all the-!_ Something unrepeatable and not fit for the ears of the little girl by his side rippled from between his clenched teeth and with a surge of magic power and a snap of focus, he teleported all three of them, leaving Bosco and its city of Aternum behind.

The world around him blurred for a moment as his anger and magic power carried him much farther than he normally would have pushed it, transporting him to the one place his subconscious registered as an absolute safe haven. He stumbled a bit as he landed. The enormous magic drain from crossing hundreds of miles in a handful of seconds, coupled with the weight of the boy in his arms and girl still firmly clinging to the bottom of his shirt all trying to knock him over. Barely regaining his feet, Mest panted heavily and shook himself, he still needed to get the boy to a doctor. _Considering what I just saw and heard from those … people, both of them should see a doctor, actually._

Straightening up, Mest glanced down at the girl to see if she’d passed out from the teleport. Some of his “passengers” did that their first and second times. Granted, those were usually only the civilian ones, but she was a malnourished child, so it was definitely a possibility. _Should have thought of that before I teleported._ Still, it had either been leave or start punching the daylights out of every sneering face there despite the boy in his arms.

The girl looked dazed, eyes unfocused and her dirt-darkened skin decidedly pale under the grime as she slumped on the ground next to him. Her hand that was fisted in the fabric of his shirt caused her to lean against him in an effort to stay semi-upright. Mest staggered a bit as she did so before regaining his balance, “Hey, hey are you okay? You aren’t going to pass out are you? Sorry I didn’t give you a little more warning, but I thought we should get out of there fast.” _Before I caused an international incident. The Master might_ ** _actually_** _have kittens this time if I did that._

The girl blinked and looked up at him groggily. She blinked one more time, then promptly passed out, dragging him down with her. Mest yelped as he fell backward, his lungs deflating with a whoosh as he hit the hard cobblestones of Magnolia’s roads with the boy on top of him. _Ow…_

He lay there for a few minutes, gasping for air and trying to shake off the fatigue of stretching his magic power a bit too far, ignoring the curious glances passersby gave him. Eventually a shadow fell over him and he squinted up at the outline of one of the guild’s older members, “Oi, … Mest wasn’t it?” Asked the man, “You okay? Who’re the kids?”

Mest sat up slowly with a grunt, still keeping a firm grip on the shivering yet sweating child in his arms, “The kids … they need a doctor. Right now. The boy has a really high fever and the girl…” He thought about the scar on her throat and the stick-figure tattoo on the boy. He remembered how the girl’s answer to his question about a doctor in Aternum had been a vehement shake of the head and a pointing session at both unusual markings. He also remembered the hateful loathing of the townspeople and a bit of bile rose in his throat as his active imagination finally put the pieces together. Swallowing down the bile, he hissed, “The people of their hometown-”

He shook his head to clear it of those thoughts, _later. That doesn’t matter right now._ “Just … can you help me carry them? They’re both in a bad way and I overused my magic just now.”

The fellow guild member —Macao if he remembered right— immediately nodded and took the boy from his arms, “Yikes! He’s burning up! Where did you find him?”

Mest gently picked up the girl and they started hurrying toward the hospital, “Tell you later, let’s just go.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Beeping. Insistent, low volume beeping that was steadily driving her nuts as she became aware of it. As if in response to her growing irritation, it increased in pitch and frequency and succeeded in dragging her further out of blissful oblivion. Blearily, Rihanna stirred, tilting her head from one side to the other before daring to crack open her eyes. She slammed them shut a moment later when light slipped through the cracks and stabbed her unprepared pupils without mercy. _No…_ a childish part of her whined, unable even try groaning it out loud, _wanna sleep some more…_

“So, you finally decide to wake up? Good, I was starting to think that idiot boy had broken something when he teleported you. Honestly, what was he thinking? Teleporting two sick, malnourished children without warning hundreds of miles in one go? This is why I hate associating with such an idiot race…”

_Who?_ The voice finally registered as adult, cranky, and unfamiliar and Rihanna’s eyes snapped open. Squinting against the light, she sat up straight and recoiled from the direction the voice had come from, _adult-yelling-chasing-hurting-don’t-trust-!_ The surface underneath her ceased to exist and she fell onto the unforgiving floor with a pained exhale and a rapid increase in the beeping that had awoken her.

Squinting and panting, Rihanna crawled backwards, trying to distance herself from the stranger in the room until she could determine who it was and what their intentions were. The back of her head smacked against something when she went too far and she doubled over, clutching her head in an effort to make the room stop spinning. Somewhere above and in front of her, someone sighed and muttered, “ _Sonna mendoi kodomo…_ ”

_Who?_ Shakily, Rihanna looked up a little bit. Dark red shoes peeked out from a long red skirt no more than a foot or so away from her. Rihanna jerked her gaze upward, resisting the urge to scoot backward for fear of hitting her head again. Stern red eyes set in an aged face and framed by cherry-blossom pink hair stared back at her. Rihanna let out a hiccup of air in an instinctive yet silent squeak as her memories finally came crashing back to her and she realized that she was now, somehow, in the presence of the infamous Porlyusica.

Porlyusica raised one thin eyebrow briefly before returning to a stern yet neutral expression, “And what gave you the idea that falling out of a perfectly good bed was a worthwhile endeavor?” The older woman’s tone was scolding, yet nowhere near as biting as Rihanna had expected it to be. Blinking once at Porlyusica’s words, Rihanna looked around the room to discover that she had indeed fallen out of a bed that was just one in a row of beds in a large room.

The room smelled of disinfectant, but it didn’t look like a hospital. The walls were a mix of stone and wood, with large windows on one end to let daylight stream in and a door on the other side that presumably led to the rest of the building. It looked more like a dormitory of some kind than anything else Rihanna could think of. _Where? What?_ “You are in the private infirmary of the Fiore guild Fairy Tail. You and your friend were brought here after getting treatment in the hospital for malnourishment and several other problems. You’ve been unconscious from shock, malnourishment, and magic drain for a few days. _Wakarimasu ka_?”

Rihanna looked back at Porlyusica and nodded slowly before part of the woman’s words sank in and Rihanna scrambled to her feet, looking around frantically. _Bickslow! Where-?_ Her panicky search came to a quick end when she turned fully around and realized that the thing she’d hit her head against earlier was Bickslow’s bed. Ignoring Porlyusica for a moment, Rihanna scrambled up onto Bickslow’s bed, reaching out to hold his limp hand as she scanned his sleeping form in worry.

His hand was cooler, not overly hot like it had been the last time she’d held it, and his breathing was much steadier and more peaceful. His face was relaxed, showing the innocence of his age, and his skin and hair were truly clean for the first time Rihanna could remember. Pappa and Pippi were next to against each other on the nightstand, in the quiet, dormant state they always fell into when Bickslow was truly asleep. Attached to his right wrist was some kind of metal bracelet and on the right side of his bed was what looked like a vitals monitor.

“Your friend is fine now, he’s just resting.” Rihanna looked over at Porlyusica, who had spoken in a surprisingly gentle tone. As Rihanna locked gazes with the aged Fairy Tail medical advisor, she was surprised to see that the elder woman’s expression had softened somewhat. Porlyusica tilted her head slightly as she held out a hand toward Rihanna, but didn’t attempt to touch her, “I need to remove the monitoring bracelet from your wrist. You don’t need it now that you’re awake and moving.”

Rihanna glanced down at her right wrist, startled to realize that there was a bracelet attached to her wrist identical in appearance to Bickslow’s. _So that’s what it’s for, it’s how the vitals monitor receives data. So Fiore has wireless? Who knew?_ Looking back up at Porlyusica, Rihanna held out her wrist, suppressing the urge to shy away when the larger hands touched her wrist and arm.

Inwardly, Rihanna scolded herself for tensing at the minimal contact, _you’re an adult, not a traumatized puppy! She isn’t going to hurt you, she’s just an old woman who serves as Fairy Tail’s misanthropic medic. She isn’t going to drag you off somewhere and throw you in a dark room-_ Rihanna cut off that line of thought pointedly and focused on watching Porlyusica remove the device from her wrist.

If Porlyusica had noticed the tensing and aborted flinch away, she didn’t show it. She simply unbuckled the device and set it aside on the nightstand next to Pappa and Pippi before turning back to Rihanna, “Can you write, child?”

Rihanna considered the question, _I can write in english, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to tell her that. Japanese is the dominant language here and the only times I’ve seen english letters used is for Levy’s magic spells or really big, fancy signs. If those letters are only used for magic spells, then how could I explain my knowing them? How would they even react? What if it’s a bad thing?_

Paranoia warred with her desire to believe the best of Porlyusica based on her memories of the woman from the series. Paranoia and the uncomfortable knowledge that she was **in** this world now and Porlyusica was not a character of a T.V. series who would react in a scripted way caused her to shrug and shake her head, hoping Porlyusica didn’t notice the pause between the question and answer.

The pinkette narrowed her eyes, but didn’t call Rihanna on her answer. Instead, she changed the subject, “The Master of Fairy Tail wishes to speak to you. Do you feel well enough to see him? Or would you rather wait until your friend wakes up?”

Rihanna immediately pointed at Bickslow to indicate she wanted to wait until the boy had woken up before facing the friendly, deceptively silly yet venerable Makarov. Porlyusica nodded, surprising Rihanna with her lack of need for clarification, “Very well. I will bring something for you to eat while you wait. Don’t leave the room and don’t make any trouble.”

Rihanna nodded obediently as Porlyusica swept out of the room, leaving Rihanna feeling vaguely unbalanced and confused. Everything was happening too fast and … easy somehow. She expected more trouble after what the past three years in Earthland had been like. Porlyusica had been very … peaceful. Exasperated and stern, yes, but nowhere near the cranky old lady who threatened people with brooms just for being human and in her enormous, forest-sized personal space bubble.

_Maybe because I’m her patient? Then again, she slapped an unconscious Makarov when he was her patient. So maybe she has a tiny soft spot for little kids? Huh…_ Rihanna mused over that line of thought and several other random strands of contemplation to keep herself calm as she sat on Bickslow’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. Porlyusica returned with some light soup and gloriously fresh bread that Rihanna had to restrain herself from wolfing down under the medic’s watchful gaze.

Once she was done eating the biggest, freshest meal she’d had in a long, long time, Rihanna took advantage of her smaller size and curled up on Bickslow’s bed. Gently, she clasped his left hand with her own, lying by his left side to avoid bumping the wrist monitor on his right. Her thoughts flitted this way and that, wondering how they’d suddenly gone from Aternum to Magnolia, considering what they’d do now, remembering her old life…

She hadn’t realized she’d dozed off until Bickslow grunted and shifted, moving the hand trapped between her palm and her cheek as he came back to consciousness. Rihanna immediately sat up and crawled forward to lean over Bickslow’s face, searching for a sign that he was really waking up.

Bickslow’s red eyes blinked open once, twice, then he jerked away from her with a yelp and a flash of glowing green irises. Rihanna pulled away as a precaution against forehead-to-forehead collisions. She’d experienced those before and they weren’t anywhere near as funny —or painless— as the cartoons made them out to be. Bickslow stared dazedly at her for a few seconds before his eyes went wide, “ _Imōto_!” Something on the nightstand clattered as his two dolls surged back to life, chanting the word in squeaky voices as they started zipping around her head hysterically.

Rihanna covered her head with her hands in case Pippi misjudged the distance and smacked into her head like it sometimes did. The dizzying loop-de-loops and squeaking eventually slowed to a stop as Bickslow took in his unfamiliar surroundings. He tensed warily when he spotted Porlyusica watching the scene from the other end of the room with a vaguely exasperated expression. Rihanna gave a tiny hiccup of air in surprise when Bickslow tugged her closer to his chest and snarled at Porlyusica, “Who’re you? Where are we? What do you want with us?”

Pappa and Pippi slid into a defensive formation above Bickslow’s head, chanting in a way that was probably supposed to be menacing, “ _Nani ka_? _Nani ka_?”

Porlyusica looked distinctly unimpressed as she responded, “I am Porlyusica, medical advisor to the Fairy Tail Guild. You are currently in Magnolia, a town in the country of Fiore. You were brought here for medical treatment by one of the Fairy Tail mages after he found the girl trying to steal soup for you.”

Bickslow looked stunned about that for a moment before he glanced sharply at Rihanna, “That true, Wren?” Rihanna nodded, then pointed at Porlyusica with a smile and pattern of three whistles in an ascending scale. It was one of the signals they’d developed to communicate around Rihanna’s muteness. It was actually the signal for when she spotted something extra nice to steal, but she figured Bickslow would be smart enough to cut out the “to steal” part when it involved a person and leave behind the “extra nice”.

Bickslow gave Rihanna a blink before turning his gaze back to Porlyusica, his expression suspicious but considering, “ _Imōto_ says you’re nice. Why?”

Porlyusica raised a slender eyebrow, “Does she now? Well, I have no idea what gave her that impression. I only volunteered to take care of you while you were recovering so that you wouldn’t wake up in an unfamiliar hospital. I only made sure your … sister wasn’t about to come down with the same sickness as you or worse. I only stayed in this human infested city for two days, away from my quiet home and garden to make sure you would both wake up and be healthy. I only used my special herbs to ensure your recovery was swifter and more comfortable than it normally would be. Nothing more than **that**.” Her sarcasm was about as dull as a freshly sharpened carving knife and Bickslow actually looked sheepish by the end of it as well as baffled.

“Well, why would you do all that? What do you want from us in return?” His expression took a darker tone and his eyes flickered ominously to green, “If you’re trying to make us your slaves out of a debt-!”

A new voice interrupted Bickslow, “No one is a slave here, child, and no one ever will be.” Rihanna stiffened and heart jumped into her throat. It was an old voice, warm and gentle, yet slightly rough and rolling. It sent chills of nostalgia rolling down her spine and she knew without a doubt who it was even before she turned to look.

Walking into the infirmary, expression serious yet kind, was Makarov Dreyar. Third Guild Master of Fairy Tail, member of the Ten Wizard Saints, grandfather of Laxus, and father figure of ninety percent of the main cast. He was by far one of the most legendary, powerful, and crucial figures in the entire Fairy Tail plotline.

Yet, despite all that, the first thought that popped into Rihanna’s head upon seeing him was, _holy Pantherlilies he’s shorter than me._ Her unabashed staring went uncontested for the moment as Makarov turned serious eyes on Bickslow, “Fiore is not like Bosco, child, slavery is illegal here. More than that, the building in which you stand belongs to the Fairy Tail guild, and freedom is as integral, as crucial, to each and every one of us as our beating hearts and the air we breathe. We do not take that from anyone, just as we do not let anyone take that from us.”

Bickslow had gone very still, his stiff body posture and the frozen posture of his dolls indicating that Makarov had both surprised and —grudgingly— impressed him. Bickslow swallowed hard before he asked, “W-who are you?”

Makarov came closer, his eyes sweeping over the two of them without judgement or scorn, his lips twitching into a gentle smile, “My name is Makarov Dreyar, I am the Master of the Fairy Tail guild.”

Rihanna could tell without looking that Bickslow was frowning, “I thought you said there were no slaves here. How can you be a master if no one’s a slave?”

Makarov hummed faintly and cocked his head to one side, “There are sometimes many meanings to a single word, the word master included. As Master of a guild, I am its leader, its protector, and the teacher of those who are under my care. All of the guild members are my children, just as I am their devoted parent. By holding the title ‘Master of Fairy Tail’, I take on the responsibility of watching over, teaching, defending, and disciplining all those who come under my wing.”

His gaze swung away from them, staring out the window absently as he continued, the conviction and honesty in his voice rattling Rihanna to her core despite already knowing what kind of things he believed in, “By holding that title, I accept that should a member of Fairy Tail do wrong to another person, I must be the one to punish them, no matter who they may be or how it pains my heart to do so. Should they be threatened, I must be the one to defend them, no matter if the price for their safety is my own life. I am called Master, yes, but in truth, I am only a shoulder on which to lean and an example from which to learn.”

His gaze, old and wise yet not threatening despite its depth, returned to them, “And if you wish it, I would like very much to be those things for you two as well.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bickslow stared at Makarov in disbelief, trying to wrap his brain around the … the utterly impossible nonsense the tiny adult had just spouted. An adult caring for children? Taking care of them? Supporting and teaching them like a parent? All that stuff about caring and love and support didn’t come anywhere near the things he associated with the word “parent”. Or the word “adult” for that matter. On top of all that, he had just offered to … let them into his guild?

Bickslow bared his teeth and stuck out his tongue in a contemptuous smile to hide the raw, vulnerable chord the speech and offer had struck in him, “Join your guild? Are you crazy, old man? No one wants us, we’re **cursed**. Even people who want to use us are too afraid to come near us, and you should be too!”

The old man just raised an eyebrow, “Oh? What kind of curse?”

Bickslow glared, letting his eyes shine with the power that had both saved him and cursed him for the majority of his life, “ **This** kind, old man. I can see your soul, I could even take it if I wanted. I can make you do anything I want you to and all I’d have to do is look you in the eyes for a second. Wren here could freeze you and blow you up at the same time just by **glaring** at you.”

Wren was nudging him, hissing quietly through her teeth in the way she did when she wanted him to shut up, but he didn’t listen to her. He refused to get his hopes up about the pretty words people spoke before they realized who he was. Before they recognized the brand on his face. He would face their scorn and reveal their lies as fast as possible so that Wren and he could hurry up and escape.

The old woman, the one Wren had called extra nice, interjected, “Don’t be stupid. You have eye magic, not a curse. It’s a genetic condition, usually triggered by reaching a certain developmental stage, but also triggered by some kind of shocking or traumatic event. Probably the latter judging by your sister’s and your age.”

Bickslow turned his head to stare at her, thoughts tumbling together at her words and her colors. They were truth colors, colors of someone who was stating facts or an honest opinion without caring who it offended. He’d seen those colors often enough when people called him a demon, but they’d usually been mixed with large doses of fear colors and hate colors. To see them all by themselves was … unnerving.

The old man spoke again, seemingly unperturbed by Bickslow’s words, “Being able to do things other cannot is not a curse. Neither is being able to see things they don’t, or hear things they can’t. It just means you have a talent that others do not possess. A talent that must be nurtured and trained until it blooms into its full potential.”

Bickslow watched the old man intently as he spoke. Studied every flicker of color, every impression and whisper, growing more confused and hopeful against his will the longer he stared. The old man was like no one he’d ever seen before, with colors that were warm like the sun and strong as a summer thunderstorm. Orange fire of conviction danced and intertwined with the white-blue of truth and a deep forest green color he had only ever seen directed his way when it belonged to Wren.

It was the color that danced through her when she hugged him after a particularly nasty insult had been thrown his way, the color that flared brilliantly when she smiled at him and treated him like he was someone amazing and not cursed. It hit him that he didn’t even have a name for that color. He didn’t know what it was. But he wanted —oh so very desperately— to see more of it. To learn what it was. To see it directed his way as much as possible and to learn how to give that color to someone else in return.

To give it like this strange old man was doing, despite seeing Bickslow’s eyes and hearing about his power. Bickslow’s hands shook as he looked down at Wren, unsure what to do or say and looking instinctively to the only other person in the world he trusted, “What … what do you think, _Imōto_?”

Wren’s colors flickered and twisted rapidly as she stared back at him, the sunshine yellow of her excitement coiling around that mysterious forest green and sparking with the purple of contemplation. Her colors suddenly settled and lit with an orange brilliance as she smiled at him, pointed at the old man, and gave three ascending whistles. She followed the whistles by pointing her index finger at the ceiling and spinning it in a circle, one slow descending whistle leaving her lips before she turned to face the old man and beamed at him with a vigorous nod.

The signal for something extra nice, the signal to follow, and a smile at the man who was so different from any adult Bickslow had ever met. He knew what she was saying, just as clearly as if she’d been able to use words, _“He’s extra nice, I think we should follow him.”_

Bickslow looked down at the bedcovers thoughtfully. Wren was … unusual, even by his standards. He knew she was much smarter than any other kid her age, she had an underlying color of wisdom he’d only ever seen in some adults. Also, she knew things he didn’t, he could see it in her eyes when she watched people. She saw things that even his eyes couldn't see, or at least, couldn’t understand. She did not give an opinion lightly, and he had never seen her give her trust to anyone so quickly. Even Bickslow had had to work for her complete and total trust.

So if she gave it to the old man so freely, so eagerly, without any doubt … Bickslow looked over the bed and down at the old- at Makarov, and offered a tentative nod, “Okay … I’ll give you a chance. We’ll join your guild.”

Makarov’s face bloomed into a huge, toothy smile that almost screwed the man’s eyes shut with its intensity, “Then welcome to Fairy Tail!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough Translations:
> 
> 1\. "Sonna mendoi kodomo..." = "Such a troublesome child..."
> 
> 2\. "Wakarimasu ka?" = "Understood?"
> 
> 3\. Imōto = Little Sister


	6. Of Guild Marks and Greetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.

 

Porlyusica left a hour after Bickslow accepted Master Makarov’s offer. She left behind several strict instructions on when Bickslow would be allowed to take missions and what things he should stay away from in order to avoid getting sick again. She also left behind a gruff, quiet apology that she could neither remove Bickslow’s brand or fix Rihanna’s voice.

Bickslow’s brand was unremovable because it had been made with some kind of magic dye Porlyusica was unfamiliar with and Rihanna’s voice unsalvageable because of the thickness of the scar tissue running through her vocal folds. Porlyusica had told Rihanna —blunt and sure— that it was a miracle she was alive at all, even if the loss of her voice had been the necessary price to pay.

Bickslow had been angry, but Rihanna had just shrugged and pasted on a smile, trying to hide the disappointment she’d felt. It wasn’t Porlyusica’s fault after all and Rihanna supposed that even an eye-growing miracle worker like the cranky old healer had her limits.

However, several hours after Porlyusica had left, all of Rihanna’s disappointment was forgotten. For one thing, she had finally been given the chance to scrub years worth of dirt and grime off of her skin and out of her hair, returning her curls to their proper honey golden hue. For another, their old rags had been disposed of and new clothes had been provided for them along with shoes for their previously bare feet. Rihanna was most pleased by that turn of events, especially with the practical, boyish clothing that she’d been given. A light blue T-shirt and tan cargo pants fit her personality much more than some kind of fluffy sundress after all.

But the best thing to happen, the thing that had driven away any last vestiges of disappointment over her mute status, was when Master Makarov had led them to his office and explained that they would need guild marks placed somewhere on their bodies so that the Fiore magical law enforcement —Rune Knights were their official name— didn’t mistake them for rogue mages. Bickslow had rebelled, but Rihanna had managed to quiet him by volunteering to go first in getting her mark.

Now Rihanna stared down at the proud, iconic Fairy Tail mark on her left shoulder, trying and failing to fight down a grin at the sight of it. A pretty female mage in a hula skirt, who had introduced herself as Enno, smiled gently down at her, “There we go. You are now an official member of Fairy Tail.” At those words, something giddy and hyper inside Rihanna begged for her to try squealing loudly despite the fact that she knew it was impossible.

Bickslow hovered by her side, fingers reaching out as if to brush the deep blue mark on her left shoulder, “Wren? You feelin’ okay? It doesn’t hurt you does it? It isn’t doing anything to you is it?”

Rihanna shook her head and impulsively flung her arms around Bickslow in a hug, thoughts of the dangerous future far from her mind as her inner fangirl screamed, _“I’m a member of Fairy Tail!”_ repeatedly. Dropping her arms, Rihanna beamed at Bickslow, silently trying to convey the sheer depths of her excitement and happiness.

Bickslow offered her a hesitant smile in return before turning to Master Makarov, “I guess that’s a ‘no’. Alright … where does mine go?”

Master Makarov, watching from where he was perched on his office desk, shrugged easily, “Anywhere you want, so long as it isn’t inappropriate.”

Bickslow scowled at the vagueness of the statement then stared down at his own skin in uneasy contemplation. Rihanna felt her heart reach out to him yet again. After being branded by the people of Aternum, the thought of bearing another mark on his skin — **willingly** bearing one— had to be incredibly foreign and unnerving. Bickslow’s contemplation stretched on and on until Rihanna wondered whether or not she should suggest something just to move things along.

However, just as she reached out to get Bickslow’s attention, he looked up at Enno and stuck out his tongue, “ ‘Ere.”

Enno blinked at him incredulously while Master Makarov raised an eyebrow. Rihanna almost laughed at the look on Enno’s face as she asked slowly, “Are you … sure? It won’t come off unless you leave the guild, so you’ll be stuck with it there.”

Bickslow rolled his eyes and nodded firmly, sticking his tongue out farther, “Yeth, ‘ow ‘o i’ alrea’y.” Rihanna failed to bite back giggles at how ridiculous Bickslow sounded with his tongue stuck that far out, but if there was only one advantage to being mute, it was that people couldn’t hear you laughing that them behind their backs when they did something silly.

Enno made a faint noise of doubt at Bickslow’s choice, but reached for the magic stamp dyes anyway, “What color?”

Bickslow cocked his head to one side —an amusing sight considering his stuck out tongue— before lisping, “ ‘Ark ‘lue.”

Enno obediently reached for the dark blue dye pad, pressed the stamp firmly into the dye, then applied the magic mark to Bickslow’s outstretched tongue. As soon as she finished pulling the stamp away, Bickslow retracted his tongue and smacked it against the roof of his mouth repeatedly, “Huh. I don’t taste anything. My tongue just tingles a bit.”

Master Makarov chuckled at that declaration, ignoring Enno’s disapproving expression as she wiped the stamp clean of saliva and put it away, “That’s because the dye is magic. No ink to taste, just a color imprint on the skin. Interesting choice of location, Bickslow, and welcome to your first day as an official Fairy Tail member.”

Bickslow nodded slowly, “Yeah … thanks.” Turning to Rihanna, he flashed his signature tongue grin, proudly displaying the Fairy Tail mark now on it, “Well? Wha’ ‘o ‘hin’?”

In response to their master’s eagerness, Pappa and Pippi chorused in time to their own enthusiastic bobbing, “What’d you think? What’d you think?” Rihanna slapped a hand over her own mouth to try to rein in her laughter at the sheer cuteness of little Bickslow and his first two babies proudly showing off his Fairy Tail mark. _Aw…_ Finally getting the giggles under control, she nodded vigorously and gave Bickslow two thumbs up of approval. It was a very odd position to choose in her opinion, but she knew that it suited Bickslow’s nature and that he no doubt had a reason for such an unusual choice.

Bickslow’s tongue grin widened before he retracted his tongue back into his mouth and looked over at Master Makarov. The Master jumped down from his desk with a faint grunt and motioned for them to follow Enno and him, “Very good. Now that all that official business is over with, come with me to the guild hall.”

Bickslow exchanged a glance with Rihanna as they obediently trailed after Master Makarov and the light-footed Enno, “Guild hall? What’s that?”

Enno answered, seeming to be filling the role of the absent Mirajane, “The guild hall is the main part of the building, it’s where all of our mages gather together to pick missions, grab something to eat or drink, or just hang out and talk. Or fight. A lot of our members seem to think that smashing chairs over each others’ heads is fun, so watch out.”

Bickslow tilted his head back at the news, seemingly unsure of how to respond to the last part. Rihanna on the other hand, was admiring the hallways of her favorite building in any anime ever and musing over the absent Mirajane. _Is Mirajane even a part of the guild yet? I know she joined young, but I don’t know the exact year she joined. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what year it is_ ** _now_** _. It isn’t like I’ve got a calendar…_

Her attention turned further inward as she walked alongside Bickslow, partially tuning out Enno, who was rambling on about how a Fiore guild worked, Rihanna already knew most of the rules anyway. _I can’t be anywhere near Lucy’s arrival, Bickslow is only … eleven? Twelve? No, before she left, Porlyusica told us our ages, Bickslow’s twelve and I’m six. Physically at least. Though how she knew our physical ages is a mystery to me. Must be one of those “crazy herbalist” secret techniques or something._

“Wren? Are you paying attention?” Rihanna looked up sheepishly at Enno’s question, embarrassed to have been caught not listening. Rihanna shook her head and bowed a bit at the waist in a silent apology. Enno smiled reassuringly at her, “I was telling you that children your age aren’t allowed to take solo missions. You have to wait until you’re at least eight before you’re allowed to take missions unaccompanied and even then, it’s encouraged for you to have an older partner go with you. Do you understand?”

Rihanna nodded immediately. _Eight-year-olds are allowed to wander the countryside unattended? What is up with this country? Although, an eight-year-old strong enough in magic to join a guild could probably handle your common thug or pedophile… It still sounds reckless and stupid to me though._

They reached a final door after having climbed down two staircases and walked down three hallways, Enno opening the door and stepping aside to reveal the guild hall beyond. Bickslow —who had taken Rihanna’s hand at some point— led her inside, keeping her close as they took in the sights that greeted them.

It was, in a word, amazing. Or mind-blowing, but Rihanna was fairly certain that was two words and not one. It was not as big as the second and most famous of the Fairy Tail guild halls —this was the one that had existed before the Phantom Lord arc— but it was still very impressive. The high, arching ceiling was supported by several key pillars in between which were long wooden tables and benches all in slightly haphazard rows.

Mages mingled in between tables, nursing tankards or leaning over to call to someone at another table for an opinion or comment. To her left was the bar and its request board, the bar currently being manned by an adult male she didn’t know from the anime. Just behind and to one side of the bar and request board were stairs leading up to the second level which she knew contained a special area for S-Class mages and S-Class requests.

Most of the members she could see ranged in age from teen to young adult, with a few older members here and there but no child-age members other than herself and Bickslow that she could see. Master Makarov and Enno led them over to the bar where Master Makarov laboriously climbed up onto the bar itself, beckoning Bickslow and Rihanna to follow. After much scrambling, internal swearing, and eventually being picked up to help her on her way, Rihanna was standing on top of the bar alongside Bickslow and Master Makarov.

The bartender didn’t even look up from cleaning beer tankards until Master Makarov cleared his throat loudly to get the attention of the guild. At first, only a few members looked up at the sound, the rest not noticing in favor of a brewing scuffle on the far side of the hall. Master Makarov coughed louder than was polite, still trying to get everyone’s attention without resorting to force. When that didn’t work either and most attention remained on the now in-progress brawl across the room, Master Makarov’s right eyelid twitched menacingly.

A huge fist rocketed past Rihanna, making her hiccup in surprise. It surged across the room, the tiny arm attached to the waist-sized fist stretching like elastic and successfully freaking her out before is sent the two original brawler’s sprawling, “Oi! Pay attention you ungrateful scamps!”

The scuffle stopped and all eyes swung to Master Makarov obediently as his arm slowly retracted and his fist returned to normal size. The man eyed his now utterly silent guild balefully for a moment before his features relaxed and he shouted, “Everyone! These two are the siblings Bickslow,” he motioned to the wide-eyed boy and his hovering dolls, “and Wren,” Rihanna waved shyly, “they are now our newest members! Welcome them warmly and treat them well, yes?”

A loud chorus of agreement rose from all present and the bar was suddenly surrounded by curious mages. Two mages —who she belatedly recognized at Macao and Wakaba— managed to push their way to the fore. Macao looked Rihanna up and down thoughtfully before smiling, “You two are the kids Mest brought in, right? Nice to meet you properly at last. I’m Macao and this ugly idiot is Wakaba.”

Wakaba scowled and nudged Macao with his shoulder, “Oi, look who’s talking, Dateless!” Macao nudged him back and it looked as if the two supposedly mature adults would start a nudging war with each other when Mest pushed his way between them, a huge smile on his face, “Hey there, welcome to Fairy Tail! It’s good to see you two up and about.”

Bickslow, who was now glaring alternately at the table and the confusing mass of people who were neither afraid or scornful of him, shifted his gaze to Mest, “Who’re you?”

Mest blinked once, his smile never faltering as he answered easily, “I’m Mest, the mage who brought you two here.” He shifted his gaze back to Rihanna, “So your name is Wren, huh? Pretty name.” Rihanna dryly decided not to attempt contemplating on how she was now apparently stuck with the name “Wren” forever more. Instead, she pointed quietly at Bickslow and shrugged to indicate that it was his idea.

Bickslow was watching Mest with something akin to gratitude in his eyes, “Why’d you help us? How’d you even find us?”

Mest rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, “Ah, well, Wren used her magic to steal my ramen and so I chased after her. I tracked her to the belfry and found her trying to wake you up and feed you so I put two and two together and, well, brought you here for medical treatment.”

Bickslow started to bristle at the mention that Mest had chased Rihanna for any reason, but Rihanna patted his arm placatingly and he settled down again. Sitting cross-legged on the top of the bar, Bickslow found his attention dragged away from Mest by the questions of other eager guild members, namely the seeming unofficial spokesperson Macao, “So kids, what’re your magics?”

Bickslow went very still, eyes widening in automatic fear while Pappa and Pippi squeaked wordlessly. Another guild member watched the two animate dolls as he answered Macao for Bickslow, “Isn’t it obvious? He’s using Seith Magic. Good at it too, if he’s able to maintain two dolls at the same time while he’s so young.”

Macao nodded slowly, a slight frown on his face at being shown up by another member, “Alright. So what’s yours, kiddo?” All eyes swung to Wren, who felt a moment of stage fright before brushing it off. _You’ve been performing in front of crowds since before you were twelve, you can do this._ Reaching out with a hand, Wren focused on the shadows cast by the bar and pulled on them. Velvet sensations slithered over her fingers and hand as she carefully coaxed a tendril of shadow into rising above the bar top. She twitched her fingers sideways, causing the shapeless tendril to wave in greeting.

Gasps, whistles, and even a clap or two of appreciation rose from the assembled Fairy Tail members, mutters of, “nice!” and “don’t see that magic used too often…” floating to her ears. Wakaba raised an eyebrow at the demonstration as she released the shadow and it dropped back onto the floor, “Not bad. Not a very strong magic, but still.”

Bickslow bristled and whirled on Wakaba, “My _imōto’s_ magic is plenty strong! Just what is **your** oh-so-powerful magic, huh?”

Wakaba raised his hands in surrender, “Whoa, take it easy. I wasn’t insulting your _imōto_ , I was just saying that Shadow Magic isn’t the strongest of the magic types. It doesn’t get used very often either.”

Bickslow narrowed his eyes into a glare while Pappa and Pippi jeered at Wakaba. His next question came out as a defensive bark, “So what do you use?”

Macao interjected, slapping Wakaba on the back as he scoffed, “Like you’ve got any room to talk, Wakaba! You use Smoke Magic that can literally be blown away by a puff of wind!”

Wakaba actually pouted from around his pipe, “Hey now…”

Enno pushed her way into the conversation, making imperious shooing motions at everyone surrounding the bar, “Alright, alright, you’ve crowded the new members long enough. You’ll overwhelm them at this rate. Be along with you now, all of you.” Loud grumbles accompanied the subsequent dispersion of mages, Wakaba dragging an abruptly moon-eyed Macao away to a table while the latter sputtered something unintelligible in Enno’s direction.

Rihanna rolled her eyes at Macao’s actions, _good grief. How old is he? Twenty? He should be able to talk to a girl he likes by now without sputtering like a fifteen-year-old with a crush._ Bickslow gave a shy thanks to Enno, who simply smiled and moved to help the bartender serve new drinks. Master Makarov had miraculously disappeared during the first wave of inquisitive mages, so Rihanna felt no guilt in clambering down from the bar to have a look around. Bickslow followed her protectively, eyeing everyone in the guild with a mix of hope and caution that made her heart ache.

“ _A-ano_ …” Rihanna looked to her left sharply at the new, high-pitched voice. The speaker was a little girl of about eight, with wavy brown hair and big purple-brown eyes that blinked hopefully at Rihanna. The girl was wearing a flower-print sundress and slip-on shoes that matched the dress’s primary color, a perfect picture of cute. _Is that…?_ Rihanna cocked her head to one side inquisitively and the girl smiled as she stuck out a hand, “ _Ano_ , I’m Cana. Cana Alberona. It’s nice to … to meet you and finally have someone in the guild closer to my age. Would you … like to be friends?”

Rihanna stared at Cana, then stared a little more. She was trying to somehow reconcile the image of beer-swigging, bikini-top wearing, self-confident Cana with the adorably shy little girl standing before her. Cana shifted nervously, her expression starting to fall, “I-if you don’t want to be friends, I understand…”

Bickslow nudged Rihanna’s back firmly, snapping her out of her daze as he said, “Wren’s mute, you really wanna be friends with a mute girl?” Rihanna shot Bickslow a withering glare at his tone while Cana —and several other not-so-subtly eavesdropping guild members— gasped at his revelation.

Cana flicked her gaze from Rihanna to Bickslow and back before her gaze settled on Rihanna’s throat scar. Her hands flew up to her mouth in horror, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!”

Bickslow was glaring at Cana, ignoring Rihanna’s attempts to make him stop as he snarled suspiciously, “So now you **don’t** wanna be friends with my sister just ‘cause she’s mute?”

Cana shook her head, “No, no! I mean- I do want to be her friend still! I just- I had no idea she couldn’t-! I’m so sorry!” She ended her babble with a low bow at the waist, causing her ponytail to flop over her face.

Bickslow crossed his arms, “My sister doesn’t need to be your- **ite-e**!” Rihanna slowly retracted her foot from its place on Bickslow’s big toe, shooting him a look that promised far worse pain if he didn’t shut up and butt out. Reaching out, Rihanna lightly tapped Cana’s bowed head to get her attention. The girl straightened up, her expression wobbling between hope and anxiety while her hand idly touched her hair where Rihanna had patted her.

Pointedly ignoring Bickslow’s mumbled whines and protests at the toe-stomping treatment, Rihanna reached out a hand for Cana to shake, mouthing a silent “ _dōzo yoroshiku_ ” as she did so. Cana blinked at her a few times before a smile blossomed across her face and she accepted Rihanna’s hand and shook it eagerly, “ _Arigatō_ , Wren! _Yoroshiku onegaishimasu_!” Rihanna just continued to smile back as she nodded agreeably, a more than tiny part of her squealing happily at being befriended by one of her favorite Fairy Tail female characters.

Releasing Rihanna’s hand, Cana bounced a bit on her toes, “Do you want to play?” Rihanna considered that for a moment, also listening to Bickslow’s vaguely overprotective grumbles for a few seconds before nodding, _why not?_

If anything, Cana’s smile somehow grew bigger as she fearlessly took one of Rihanna’s hands and led her toward an unoccupied table, all shyness gone, “Wonderful! Do you know Go Fish? Or Old Maid?”

Rihanna gave a silent giggle at the thought of child Cana playing card games with the cards she would later weaponize to great effect as an adult. She waited until Cana had sat them both down, one on either side of the table, and looked up at her again before responding. Holding up one finger, Rihanna nodded. Holding up two fingers, she shook her head.

To her credit, Cana gave her silent reply serious thought before tentatively offering a translation, “You … know one of them but not both?” Rihanna nodded patiently and then repeated her previous motions, trying to tell Cana that she knew Go Fish, but not Old Maid. Well, more like she could no longer remember the rules to Old Maid while she still retained a working knowledge of Go Fish.

Cana frowned, apparently not understanding what she meant this time, “Uh…” Rihanna heaved a mental sigh and resorted to a much less dignified charade. Holding her hands to her jawline, she mimed a fish breathing. From his position next to her, Bickslow huffed a laugh at her action, prompting a glare from the physically younger girl. Seeing the glare, Bickslow rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Since when do you know Go Fish, _imōto_? That’s a little kids game anyway.”

Rihanna deadpanned at him before pointedly staring at where he was sitting, then back at his face before raising an eyebrow. _One, I learned when I was a kid living in Chicago. Two, I am physically a “little kid”. Three, so are you! Besides that, what are you doing here? I thought you were pouting?_ Bickslow cocked his head, a faint frown on his face as he worked on deciphering her expressions. He had gotten very good at translating her facial and bodily cues, but sarcastic comments and other less blatant statements still took him some time to work out.

Cana interrupted his thoughts, her shoulders tense as she pulled out a pack of cards from her tiny yellow purse, “What’s that got to do with anything? You’re a kid too!” Her face suddenly took on a slightly devious air that gave Rihanna very strong deja vu, _uh oh, the infamous Cana cunning emerges … and at such a young age too._ Tossing her head slightly, Cana waved the pack of cards in Bickslow’s general direction, “You’re probably just sore that you aren’t any good at it.”

Bickslow bristled, “I’m plenty good at it! I’m way better than **you** are!”

Pappa and Pippi bounced bit in the air as they chanted, “Better than you! Better than you!”

Cana pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in a way that, when on the face of a woman and not a child, would have sent anyone with half a brain running, “Oh? Then how about you prove it?”

Bickslow’s expression of smug superiority faltered and Rihanna failed to suppress a sigh as she rested her chin on her hand to watch. She had never seen Bickslow give any sign of knowing how to play Go Fish in all the years she’d known him. Though that could have been because of their impoverished situation at the time, from the look on his face now, Rihanna highly doubted he even knew the first rule about Go Fish.

Her suspicion gained more weight when Bickslow snorted explosively and looked away, tugging at the brand new clothes Master Makarov had given him, “Don’t wanna.”

Cana’s devious look deepened and she honed in on Bickslow in a manner reminiscent of a shark that had scented blood, “Come on, play against Wren and me. If you win, I’ll give you a prize…”

Bickslow shot her a glance, curiosity peeked and Rihanna half hid her face in her palm at the utterly cliché child drama playing out in front of her. _I thought Bickslow was too old for this kind of thing. Guess not._ Bickslow crossed his arms over his chest, “…What kind of prize?”

Cana chewed her bottom lip before reaching into her little purse again and pulling out a handful of wrapped chocolate candies. Instantly, the Card Mage had both Bickslow’s and Rihanna’s undivided attention. Rihanna felt her mouth water just a little at the inconspicuous chocolate candies. She’d always had a bit of a sweet tooth, especially for chocolate. However, since she and Bickslow had barely managed to steal enough actual food to sustain themselves some days, she had not had any kind of sweet for a little over three years.

Cana smirked a bit at their attention, “You win and I’ll give you these. They’re speciality chocolates, made locally and only available in one candy store in all of Fiore. They’re really good. I had to spend almost my entire allowance just to get these. So … what do you say?”

_Chocolate. Real, actual, chocolate … want!_ Rihanna hastily debated the pros and cons of temporarily abandoning her maturity and suckering Bickslow into a game for the chocolates. She was fairly certain that if she got Bickslow to join and he really didn’t know how to play Go Fish, Cana would consent to giving the chocolate to whoever won anyway and Rihanna figured that as an adult, she had a good chance of winning. Right?

On the other hand, she would inevitably be caught up in the childish … whatever-it-was currently going on between Cana and Bickslow. If she got caught up in it, she would no doubt be eventually dragged down to their maturity level and be given either a headache, a humiliation, or both.

But on the first hand … **chocolate**.

Making up her mind, Rihanna leaned over and tugged on Bickslow’s sleeve frantically. The moment his eyes swung to lock with her’s, she turned on her puppy eyes, looking at him with all of the pleading and adorable “little sister” vibes she could possibly scrape together. Bickslow swallowed hard, trying to pull his gaze away from Rihanna’s but seemingly unable to. Slowly, Rihanna lifted her chin off of her hand and moved to clasp both hands just underneath her jaw pleadingly, trying to somehow beam the desire for chocolate into his head.

Finally, Bickslow huffed and turned to face Cana, “Fine. Set it up, and no skimping on the cards.” Both girls beamed at him and Rihanna thought she heard a few “aw”s drift faintly through the guild. Cana divided the cards, which Rihanna was surprised to note were poker cards and not tarot, and expertly passed them among the three players.

Setting the rest of the cards in the center of the table, Cana cheerfully cried, “Alright! Let’s ‘Go Fish’!”

An hour or so later, Rihanna was happily rolling a chocolate on her tongue, savoring the dark, slowly melting sweet as much as possible while Bickslow and Cana had a loud, vibrant shouting match complete with waving arms and squeaking animate dolls.

Just as she had suspected, Bickslow had absolutely no clue how to play Go Fish and had thus lost the first game miserably. Angrily, he had demanded they play for best two out of three, to which Cana had confidently agreed. However, it was during the last two games that the tides had drastically turned. Because while Bickslow had no prior experience with the game Go Fish, he was a master of the most important skill a street orphan could learn next to stealing.

Namely, how to cheat like crazy and get away with it scot-free.

His endeavors at cheating —though Rihanna still wasn’t sure how one cheated at Go Fish— had probably been helped immensely by the fact that he had two little tiki dolls with the ability to lazily drift past Cana’s shoulder before drifting coincidentally past Bickslow’s ear. Cana had caught on only after the end of the third game and only because Bickslow had seemingly gone from not knowing an eight of hearts from a six of diamonds to being a flawless winner. But by the time she’d started making her accusations, Bickslow had cheerfully handed off all of the precious chocolates to Rihanna.

Rihanna idly rolled one of said chocolates on her tongue, the others nestled safely in the pockets of her new cargo pants. Was she willingly eating property which had technically been stolen? Yes. Did she feel any remorse whatsoever? No. Not at all.

Pippi suddenly got overactive and zipped forward to bounce off of Cana’s head. Cana held the accosted spot, yelping loudly with pain, and Rihanna tensed, wondering if Bickslow had gone too far and was going to make Cana cry. But then Cana proved why she fit in so well with Natsu’s generation of Fairy Tail by whipping her tarot deck out of her purse and starting to chase Bickslow around with a handful of magically charged cards.

Rihanna watched from her safe corner as Bickslow, in his hasty attempts to escape, scrambled over someone else’s table, spilling beer and food everywhere. One of Cana’s cards —a fire card apparently— missed Bickslow and landed on the spilled turkey, setting it cheerily aflame.

Leaping off of the table, Bickslow darted around a startled Wakaba’s legs, screeching for Pappa to hit Cana as he did so. Pappa shot forward at Cana, who ducked at the last second so that Pappa went hurtling over her head and smacked between the unsuspecting legs of another male guild member, who promptly doubled over in agony, accidentally head-butting the person he’d been arguing with a moment before.

Unaware —or just not caring— of why he’d been so suddenly head-butted, the second man slugged the doubled-over first, who fell backwards onto the floor and tripped Enno, who then spilled her tray of beer so that the tankards somehow went flying an impressive distance of about twenty feet before spilling all of their contents.

Right on the flaming turkey Macao had been trying to put out.

It exploded brilliantly. Almost as brilliantly as Macao’s vocabulary of unrepeatable words and phrases.

Rihanna blinked a few times as the guild dissolved into chaos all around her. Macao was jumping up and down, trying to put out the tiny fire on his left pant leg, Enno was shrieking for a fire-extinguisher, and the seeming only Water Mage present in the guild was being dragged into a brawl before he could finish his water spell and put out the merrily burning fire in the middle of the room.

Movement out of the corner of her eye dragged Rihanna’s attention away from the fire and havoc in the main part of the hall to where Bickslow and Cana stood on a far table, watching the results of their accidents with identical looks of fascinated horror.

She watched as they looked from the fire and brawl to each other. Bickslow suddenly grinned and said something that had Cana chasing him anew … which then led to a lightning card temporarily paralyzing Master Makarov, the buff bartender crying over shattered bottles of vintage wine, and Bickslow accidentally figuring out that Pappa and Pippi could shoot lasers. The last of these events promptly led to the existence of three more fires and an impressive gouge mark in one of the walls.

Two hours after that, the fires had been put out, everyone had been lectured sternly over exercising restraint with their magic while in the guild building, and the bartender had been comforted with promises of replacement vintage wine. Rihanna wordlessly passed Cana and Bickslow a chocolate each while listening to Cana alternately chatter at her or get into a sniping war with Bickslow who was sitting on Rihanna’s other side.

Rihanna had the sudden, unshakeable feeling that she had just witnessed the start of a relationship that would either be absolutely awesome, or earthshakingly horrible.

It would probably depend on who she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough Translations:
> 
> 1\. Imōto = Little Sister
> 
> 2\. "Ano" = expression of hesitance or attracting attention, similar to "um" or "ahem" in english.
> 
> 3\. "Dozo yorushiku" = "Nice to meet you"
> 
> 4\. "Yorushiku onegaishimasu" = more formal version of "Nice to meet you".


	7. First Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't asked for this. Any of it. Being slashed through the throat, waking up in a world that shouldn't exist, being a sister to a fictional character, getting a wild family that steamrolled over things like reality, impossibility, and destiny via bullheadedness and faith in each other, or falling in love with a competitive idiot. She hadn't asked … but she loved them anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly cutting out the bits of Japanese in these chapters for legibility (that and I'm low on patience today). Hopefully the pieces that remain are universally known to anime fans. It's nothing too complicated. Just a word here or there.

Bickslow stared up at the request board, trying to figure out which job he should take. It would be his first experience having a job after all, he wanted it to be a good one. A mission to fight some kind of monster caught his eye, but he quickly dismissed it when he remembered Wren standing patiently next to him, waiting for him to pick a mission for the two of them.

Wren, sensing his gaze, looked away from the request board to meet his eyes. She raised an eyebrow in question and motioned to the board in a “well? aren’t you going to pick something?” kind of way. Bickslow shrugged helplessly, “I don’t know what to pick.”

Wren frowned slightly and returned her gaze to the request board, standing on her toes to get a better look at the requests higher up on the board. Finally, she pointed at one and raised her eyebrow at Bickslow questioningly. Bickslow shifted closer to the board to look at the poster she had pointed to and snorted, “Finding someone’s runaway cat? Really, _imōto_? Boring.” _Who names a house cat “Tora” anyway? That’s just asking for it to go wild._ Biting his lip, Bickslow ran his eyes over the requests again, trying to find one that didn’t sound too boring, but also didn’t sound too dangerous for Wren either.

Doubt was beginning to creep up on Bickslow on whether there was any job that met his narrow criteria and whether they’d get in trouble if they didn’t take a job as soon as possible when his dolls chattered faintly, alerting him to someone approaching from behind, “Trying to pick a first job?”

Bickslow glanced over his shoulder at Mest, not sure if he was relieved or angry at the mage’s appearance. On one hand, he didn’t trust Mest and didn’t trust how friendly he acted. On the other hand, Mest was the reason they were out of Aternum and off the streets now. Plus, Wren seemed to like him. Grudgingly, Bickslow withheld a scathing demand for the older mage to leave them alone and grunted instead, “Yeah. Maybe.”

Wren blinked at Bickslow once before she turned to Mest and lightly tugged on his sleeve. Mest looked down at Wren, “Yes, Wren-chan?”

Wren made a sweeping gesture at the request board and then shrugged, head cocked. Mest smiled at her and Bickslow fought down a flash of an ugly and unfamiliar emotion. He wasn’t sure why, but he really, really didn’t like how everyone in the guild seemed to be going out of their way to befriend his little sister. He also didn’t like it that Wren seemed perfectly happy to put up with their presences. Especially the annoying card-girl Cana and the currently present Mest.

He told himself that it was because he didn’t trust anyone in the guild yet, and probably never would, and that was partially the reason. But that didn’t feel like all of the reason and that confused Bickslow. Seemingly ignorant of the moody looks Bickslow was shooting him, Mest idly placed a hand on Wren’s head as he examined the request board, “You want a suggestion on which one to pick, huh? Hmmm…” After several moments of contemplation and Bickslow toying with the increasingly appealing idea of having Pappa zap Mest’s hand to get it off of Wren’s head, Mest reached out and pulled down a poster from the request board, “How about this one?”

He passed it down to Bickslow, who scowled at it as he slowly deciphered the kanji and english mix on the cheerfully illustrated poster. Wren huddled closer by his side to get a better look at the poster as Bickslow glanced incredulously up at Mest, “Helping out at a restaurant? Really? How’s that a job for a mage?”

Mest shrugged, “It’s a good job for your first time. The owner is a retired Fairy Tail member. He lets young mages try to use their magic to complete everyday tasks and, if their magic can’t be used that way, he still pays very well for simple, honest work. He’s friendly, fairly easygoing, and doesn’t mind Fairy Tail’s more … destructive habits. Plus, he’ll probably have the cooks make you a free lunch if you’re around when it’s the lunch hour.”

Bickslow pursed his lips and glared thoughtfully down at the poster, insides squirming at the thought of meeting yet another stranger who would no doubt stare at his facial tattoo. Or worse, know what it meant and curse him for it. But on the other hand, the reward was thirty-thousand jewels. That was more jewels than Bickslow had ever even seen all at once, let alone ever held. Also, despite his private suspicions about Mest, the teen didn’t seem to be out to get them and if he seemed so certain that the owner would be nice to them…

He looked down at Wren and raised both eyebrows in a questioning gesture. Wren examined the poster again, her expression serious. Finally, she nodded and tapped the poster approvingly, making the paper bob and rustle under her touch. Bickslow worried his lip a little bit more, his dolls sensing his worry and flittering around just a touch faster than normal before settling down. He nodded as well and covered his unease with a wide tongue-grin down at Wren, “Alright! Let’s do this, _Imōto_!”

Mest made his presence known again by chuckling and patting Bickslow on the shoulder, apparently oblivious to Bickslow’s automatic flinch as he said, “Alright then, if you’ve decided on a job, just go up and tell Ricard, he manages the request board and keeps a record of who is currently out on missions or not. I’d come with you, but I don’t want to take any of your reward. Besides, helping out at a restaurant is a little below my capabilities now, Aengus-san would think I’m trying to freeload off of his cooks again.”

Bickslow hummed neutrally, not sure what to say about that or the beaming smile Wren graced Mest with before leading the way to the bar where Ricard the bartender was serving tankards to the annoying duo Macao and Wakaba. The two looked up from their tankards as Bickslow and Wren approached, Macao spotting the poster in Bickslow’s hand and flashing that strange smile everyone was always giving his sister and him, “Off to take your first job, hmm? You sure Porlyusica won’t get mad about it?”

Bickslow didn’t really see how the cranky old healer would know about his taking a mission when she wasn’t even there, but decided it was a moot point as he shook his head, “It’s been four days. I’m fine.” Wakaba scoffed something about the recuperative powers of the young but Bickslow ignored him in favor of waving the poster at Ricard, “Oi, we’re going out on this job. That a problem?”

Ricard leaned over the bar to get a proper look at which poster Bickslow was holding, then nodded easily and straightened up, “That’s fine. Good luck on your first job, kids!” Ricard flashed that strange smile at them and turned back to Wakaba and Macao, getting into some kind of friendly debate about something while Bickslow and Wren made their way to the guild entrance. Bickslow shifted uncomfortably as more and more semi-strangers called out well wishes and encouragements to them as they passed.

He didn’t understand how they could all be so … friendly to him. He had a brand on his face that should have inspired fear and disgust wherever he went and —up until four days ago— it always had. But now he was surrounded by adults that didn’t scorn or hit, was fed absolutely huge amounts of food whenever he was hungry, and was smiled at for no apparent reason. Bickslow was tempted to think that all of the people in the Fairy Tail guild were trying to trick him into lowering his guard.

That or they were all crazy. Which might be more likely when he considered their honest colors with his eye magic and witnessed the spontaneous brawls that happened at least once a day.

Still, crazy or not, the sheer boundlessness of their cheer and the open friendliness they displayed threw Bickslow off and made him feel wary and defensive. Wren seemed to handle it much better despite being younger than him, but that might have been because she hadn’t been on the streets for as long as he had and probably didn’t even remember how she had become mute anymore.

Sunlight hit his face and a spring breeze ruffled his hair, drawing him out of his thoughts and to the busy, open streets of a foreign city. Bickslow stopped in the entrance of the Fairy Tail building, trying to get his bearings in the beautiful yet unknown city of Magnolia. Magnolia wasn’t built like Aternum. While Aternum was comprised of crowded, winding streets and crooked buildings leaning over the heads of passing pedestrians, Magnolia was spacious, neat, and orderly.

The cobblestone streets were broad, easily double that of a normal Aternum street, and the buildings were spaced in planned, straight rows with walls that didn’t lean or loom over the roads. People walked to and fro, calling hellos or pausing to exchange gossip without inconveniencing anyone else. Here and there in little stretches of raised dirt, trees rustled their leaves in the breeze and gave shade to passersby.

Bickslow took a slow, bracing breath and stepped out onto the road, “Right, let’s go and…” his voice trailed off for a moment as he looked up and down the unfamiliar street. It occurred to him suddenly that he had never actually been anywhere in Magnolia aside from the Fairy Tail guild building. At least, not while conscious. Thus, he had absolutely no clue on where to go. _I can’t turn around and go back in … they’ll laugh or call me stupid or something. But … I don’t know where to go._

Sensing Wren watching him in concern, Bickslow straightened his shoulders and picked a direction at random, hoping that heading down the road to his right would eventually lead him to where he wanted to go.

It didn’t.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Rihanna sighed as she sat down on a nearby bench conveniently placed near the street under a shady tree. Of course Bickslow had gotten them lost. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that he would have no idea where to go? Probably because she’d assumed that somewhere in amid the unintelligible kanji scrawled on the poster were instructions on how to actually **get** to the restaurant they were supposed to help at.

Sitting down next to her with a distinctly sheepish look, Bickslow mumbled, “Sorry, _Imōto_. I didn’t mean to get us lost.” _Of course you didn’t. You’re only twelve. I should have thought this through beforehand._

Rihanna idly patted Bickslow’s arm to comfort him as she pondered over what to do now. She had no real idea on how to get back to the guild building, and was reluctant to return without having even found the location of the job Bickslow had picked. Rihanna tried to apply logic to the problem. She assumed from the picture of rows of tables and the big words “help wanted” in english that the job was to help out at a café or restaurant or some kind. Plus, Mest had advised it and mentioned free food. Therefore, the place was probably in or near Magnolia’s Market District.

_Which would be an enormously helpful piece of knowledge if I had any idea_ ** _where_** _the Market District was in relation to our current location._ Rihanna noticed that Bickslow was making distressed grunts at the poster and his babies were beginning to do loop-de-loops and sighed again. _Oh forget it, we’ll do this the old fashioned way and forget paranoia for a second._

Reaching out, Rihanna snatched the poster from Bickslow’s lax grip and hopped off of the bench with Bickslow’s surprised yelp in her ears, “Wren? What are you-?” Picking a woman who had a child Bickslow’s age with her, Rihanna marched up to them and got their attention with a wave of her hand.

The woman and child stopped, blinking at Rihanna in surprise and then at Bickslow when he came running frantically up behind Rihanna, Pappa and Pippi squeaking “ _nani-nani_?” rather hysterically. Ignoring Bickslow, Pappa, Pippi, and the young boy gaping at the floating toys, Rihanna unrolled the slightly crumpled poster and held it up for the woman’s inspection, tapping the picture with a finger and then shrugging at her surroundings to indicate that Rihanna had no idea where to go.

The woman frowned, “I’m not sure I understand…” Rihanna rolled her eyes, _oh how I miss my underrated ability to speak._ Rihanna summoned up her patience and gestured to the picture and then her surroundings again.

The woman continued to look baffled for another few seconds before understanding dawned, “Oh! Of course! You must be new to Magnolia! You’re looking for the restaurant that posted this job, correct?” Rihanna nodded, happy to be getting somewhere. The woman smiled down at her a bit, “Let’s see, The Secret Ingredient is … that way.” She pointed down a street at the nearby intersection, “Just go down that street for four blocks, then turn left. Cross the bridge, turn right and keep going until you reach the Restaurant District. The Secret Ingredient is the one with a patio that overlooks the canals, so as long as you stay on the main roads, you can’t miss it.” Rihanna nodded again and bowed low in thanks before dragging Bickslow away from his glaring contest with the other boy and toward their destination at last.

Once they were away from the woman and the boy, Bickslow hissed, “Why’d you do that, Wren? They could have tried to hurt you.”

Rihanna gave Bickslow a sad look at his words and the reasons she knew were behind them. _Oh Bickslow. If only I could tell you that there are so many people in the world that are kinder than Aternum’s were. If only I could tell you how to trust strangers just a little bit and not expect them to curse you and drive you off._ But, unfortunately, she didn’t have a voice. Even if she’d had, Rihanna doubted that mere words could undo the damage Aternum had done to Bickslow emotionally.

Unable to express any of those thoughts, Rihanna simply took Bickslow’s hand and squeezed it gently before giving in to her inner child and skipping down the street toward her first job as a mage. Bickslow walked next to her, a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her skip, his eyes flickering briefly to green before he looked away and studied their surroundings instead. Idly, Rihanna wondered what Bickslow saw whenever he glanced at her with his dōjutsu. It seemed to be his way of judging things that were not obvious to the naked eye, but what exactly he was judging or looking for during those times, she still didn’t know.

The distance to their destination grew steadily shorter as Rihanna admired her surroundings for the hundredth time that day, her good mood mostly restored. Magnolia was truly a beautiful place, absolutely nothing like Chicago. Or even Aternum. While Aternum was architecturally similar to Magnolia, Magnolia had a much more open and cheerful air to it. Though perhaps Rihanna only thought that because she hadn’t had to live three years of constant running, sneaking, and stealing in the pretty Fiorean city.

People smiled at the two as they went by. Others who spotted Pappa and Pippi floating by Bickslow’s shoulders chuckled knowingly and commented on how Fairy Tail seemed to be growing every day. One woman shook her head before commenting to an older woman just on the edge of Rihanna’s hearing, “Honestly, sometimes I think that place takes in more kids than the orphanage.”

The older woman chuckled and waved a hand to dismiss the first woman’s statement, “Now, now, there’s nothing wrong with our guild getting a unique collection of members. It’s what makes the guild so renowned.” Rihanna shook her head at the overheard conversation, even though she couldn’t help but agree with both of the women. If the anime —and her own circumstances— were to be believed, Fairy Tail really did have a tendency to take in strays that then grew up powerful and loyal to the guild that had given them a home and family.

_That would actually be a really scary thought if the guild in question wasn’t so freedom-loving. If a bad guy figured out how to do that … I don’t even want to think about it._ Bickslow’s voice interrupted Rihanna’s thoughts, “Hey, isn’t that the place we’re supposed to go to?” Rihanna looked up in surprise to see a restaurant with a patio and a sign that had the name The Secret Ingredient proudly displayed on it. _Have we really been walking long enough to find it? Though I suppose I shouldn’t think that after how long we were lost._

Rihanna passed the poster back to Bickslow so that he could double-check for himself.After giving the poster a long, scrutinizing look, Bickslow nodded to himself, “Yeah … this is the place.” He looked at the front door as they came closer and closer to the building with reluctance, “So I guess we just … head in?”

Rihanna shrugged, she had no more idea how magic jobs worked than he did. _Pity life doesn’t come with tutorials. Even ones in an anime world._ Still, she supposed that all they had to do was go in, find the owner of the restaurant, and show him the poster. That would explain everything, right? After exchanging one last uneasy look, the two entered the restaurant called The Secret Ingredient. _It’s just helping out at a restaurant, what could possibly happen?_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Rihanna scurried from table to table as fast as her legs could carry her, a headache slowly growing behind her eyes as she used her Shadow Magic to form a tray on which to carry orders. _I really need to break the habit of thinking that before it comes back to seriously bite me in the butt, don’t I? Easy job my right leg!_

In hindsight, Rihanna really should have known better than to think it would be easy or boring. Mest had said that Aengus was “friendly and easygoing” but he had also said that Aengus was a former Fairy Tail member. When you placed those three descriptors in the same sentence about the same person, they came to mean something very different from the layman’s version of “friendly and easygoing”.

Aengus was cheerful in a booming way that made her ears hurt, with a smile a mile wide and a welcome-to-Fairy-Tail hug that could have winded a bear. He also, somehow, appeared to be the Earthland version of a Scot, complete with a kilt and brogue accent. Though how he managed a brogue accent while speaking Japanese was beyond Rihanna.

Also, after welcoming the two new mages with a bone-crushing hug and a booming laugh, he had quickly proven to have no idea that two children did not have the necessary endurance levels to reach his high standard of hard work. He had wanted them to do several ridiculous tasks that made Rihanna cringe at the thought of before his —much more sensible— restaurant manager had stepped in and taken over.

Bickslow and Rihanna had promptly been set to serving tables and taking orders as several of Aengus’s waiters had called in sick a few days ago. This proved to be a problem when it was revealed that Bickslow was the only one of the two who could read or write kanji while Rihanna was the only one who had the temperament to ask nicely what costumers wanted, which was hard to do anyway given her mute status. After the seventh instance of Bickslow insulting the intelligence of a customer and threatening to hit someone for cooing at Rihanna, Bickslow had been banished to helping in the kitchen with the aid of his tiki dolls while Rihanna had been granted the “honor” of being the adorable assistant to one of the regular waitresses, a girl named Mimi.

At the moment, she was following Mimi to deliver a hefty order of food and drinks to a group of travelers who had come in just at the height of lunch hour and managed to snag a booth. Mimi was carrying a tray with several plates of food on it while Rihanna followed behind with the remaining three plates and the assorted drinks. She would have used a regular tray, except Aengus had made it very clear that they were only going to get paid if they used their magic as much as possible to complete the job. Something about teaching the younger generation of mages how to be creative with their abilities.

At least she’d learned a new skill and was getting better at maintaining the duration of her Shadow Magic. Mimi blithely interrupted her musings when the two arrived at the table and the pretty young waitress chirped, “Thank you for waiting, here are your orders!” Mimi started dishing out the orders as she rattled off what went to whom, “Now, the daily special for Haibara-sama, Kavanagh-sama, and Fujimoto-sama. Grilled fish for Hisakawa-sama, onigiri for Ito-sama…”

Mimi tucked her now empty tray under her arm and turned to Rihanna, “Can you remember the other orders, Wren-chan?”

Rihanna inched closer to the table and coaxed her shadow tray to hover higher, eliciting gasps of awe and amazement as she inched the tray upward until it was just above the lip of the table. Rihanna bit her lip in intense concentration, she had to make sure the tray remained flat and with the same density throughout its surface or risk spilling everything.

She shot a hooded look at Mimi for just standing there smiling expectantly before slowly inching her hands out from under the shadow tray, forcing several shadows from the booth table to uncoil and form a little stand for her tray while she used her hands to pick up the plate nearest her.

It was an onigiri platter. Rihanna cast her mind back to the order, attempting to remember who had ordered what. Her headache grew a little worse from the multitasking and her adult pride was stung at the chorus of awes her struggles to reach far enough across the table to hand a grinning Boyle-san his order elicited. _Curse my child height! Just … a little … farther!_ Rihanna didn’t dare stand on her tiptoes as she feared the attention division between her hands and the shadow tray would become too uneven and cancel her spell. Thankfully, Boyle-san finally took pity upon her plight and reached out to take the plate from her hands.

Rihanna sighed with relief before turning a weary eye to other items left on the tray. _Now I have to do it again. Lovely. This kind of job was so much easier when I was twenty … and could speak … and write in a language everyone else could understand … and wasn’t so darn short. At least the others are closer._

Mimi cheered Rihanna on as she passed out the other plates, gratified that the last two customers were nice enough to take the plate from her once it was within easy reach for them. After that, she served the drinks, once again requiring aid in passing out the ones that belonged to people on the far edge of the long booth. Only once that was finally done did she let her shadow tray dissolve to ease the strain on her mind.

As Rihanna followed Mimi to check on the other tables and then back to the kitchens, she mused to herself with a slight pout. _I don’t remember being so short at this age … then again, I don’t really remember being six all that well. Am I short for my physical age? That would be just my luck wouldn’t it? To get a stunted growth the second time around because of living on the streets for three years._

It didn’t help her self-esteem much that people kept calling her “cute” whenever she was spotted helping out Mimi. True, the people saying it meant well, but it was more than a little degrading for someone who remembered being a woman to be squealed over like some kind of fluffy kitten.

A muffled boom from the depths of the kitchen just as they were entering, accompanied by a large cloud of smoke, shook her out of her thoughts. _What the-?_ Several voices —presumably the cooks— cursed loudly and the unmistakable hiss of a fire-extinguisher rose in the air while Mimi frantically waved the smoke away and Rihanna coughed silently. The smoke cleared rapidly, the source already out, and Rihanna peeked into the depths of the kitchen to see a sooty Bickslow blinking sheepishly at the exasperated head cook. Pappa and Pippi hovered near one of the large grills, Pappa looking particularly sooty and spinning in little dizzy loops while Pippi chanted softly, “Oops-a-daisy, oops-a-daisy…”

Rihanna stared first at the foam-coated grill, then at the sooty Bickslow and his tiki dolls, and promptly reintroduced her palm to her face. _Someone tell me that what I think happened, did not just actually happen._ The head cook shook his head exasperatedly at Bickslow as he stowed away the fire extinguisher and signaled another cook to start cleaning up the mess, “When I said ‘turn the heat up’, I meant ‘use the dial on the grill’. Not ‘shoot the coals with lasers from your tikis’. Honestly … what is it with Fairy Tail kids and explosions?” _It did._

Bickslow swallowed and hunched his shoulders in expectation for a violent reprisal, “Sorry! I-I didn’t think it would blow up like that!”

The head cook didn’t even look angry at the sudden demise of one of the grills during lunch hour, just oddly resigned, “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean any harm. This kind of thing happens every time the boss sends a job request to Fairy Tail. At least you didn’t accidentally teleport a booth full of guests into the middle of the canal like that other kid did a couple years ago…”

Rihanna sniggered, shoulders shaking with unheard mirth despite herself as she immediately realized who must have made **that** mistake. _I wonder how Mest managed to do that? It doesn’t seem like something one could do by accident. Then again, teleportation is probably very different from shadow magic._

Bickslow appeared both baffled and relieved that his mistake had earned nothing more than sighs and a gentle reprimand. He glanced from the bustling cooks to Rihanna, his expression unsure. Rihanna smiled and shrugged at him, hoping to convey that everything was fine and there was nothing he could do but keep working. Before she could think of anything else to do that might put Bickslow at ease, she was whisked away by Mimi to resume tending tables.

The next hour blurred by in a flurry of orders, deliveries of said orders, and an ever-present headache from using her magic so much. When the majority of the lunch rush had finally settled down or left, Rihanna heaved a deep sigh of relief, trying not to think on how poor Bickslow was managing in the hot kitchens surrounded by loud, semi-bossy adults.

A hand gently patted her head as Mimi smiled down at her, “Hard work isn’t it? Especially for someone your age. Poor thing. You did a splendid job, Wren-chan. Truly splendid. Come on, I’m sure Aengus has already ordered the cooks to set something aside for your brother and you.” Rihanna followed Mimi numbly, not even bothering to be insulted at being patted on the head like a puppy who had learned to fetch. The promise of sitting down and having food was just too wonderful.

Mimi led Rihanna to the break room, herding her to a chair next to the already seated Bickslow. Bickslow paused in slurping water from his glass to look Rihanna over critically, “You look exhausted, _Imōto_ , are you okay?”

Rihanna nodded absently as she grabbed her own glass and started greedily drinking the cool water within, _I don’t remember waitressing being so exhausting. Then again, I am physically six. Smaller body, smaller battery Ii-_ ** _food_** _!_ Mimi giggled at Rihanna’s eager look as the waitress set the plate of onigiri down in front of her, “There you go, a little side reward for all of your hard work. When you’re done, Aengus will want to see you, so make sure you two report to his office, alright? Good.”

As Mimi walked away, Rihanna eagerly set about demolishing the food on her plate, her pace only outdone by Bickslow, who had wolfed down half his portion in the time it took her to eat her first one. By the time Rihanna was halfway through her own meal, Bickslow had already finished his and was staring thoughtfully at the doorway through which Mimi had disappeared, “Ne, Wren.”

Wren looked up from nibbling on seaweed in silent question. Seeing that he had her attention, Bickslow continued, “The people here in Magnolia are really … different from Aternum, aren’t they? First _Jiji_ and his guild and now these … strangers. None of them…” His hand idly reached up and fingered the brand on his face, “Their colors are so clean when they look at me. Like I’m just another kid and not…” _not a demon_ , the end of the sentence hovered tensely in the air between them.

Bickslow looked pensive while Rihanna took a moment to stare hard at her seaweed and rein in the urge to plot revenge on Aternum for everything its people had done to Bickslow and her over the years. _Being treated with courtesy and kindness should_ ** _not_** _be a foreign concept to a boy his age. Or ever. It just shouldn’t._

Pushing her desire to harm something deep down until it no longer ran the risk of showing on her face or activating her dōjutsu by accident, Rihanna looked back up at Bickslow and whistled three quiet, ascending notes before making a broad motion with her hands to signify all of their surroundings. Bickslow blinked at her once, then smiled, “Yeah, everything around here is extra nice. Even the people … especially the people…”

Rihanna looked down at her food again, sad to hear a young boy marveling over the concept of being treated with kindness. With a faint sigh, she abandoned the seaweed strand and ate the rice portion of one more rice ball before pushing the plate away and moving to stand. Bickslow frowned at her in concern, “Aren’t you going to finish, Wren?”

Rihanna shook her head. She wasn’t sure how Bickslow had miraculously avoided the effect, but three years of little food had limited her ability to eat a full meal. She could eat a good portion of a normal sized meal, but many times she found herself unable to finish it without risking a terrible stomach ache or vomiting.

Besides, the seaweed tasted very odd to her distinctly American taste buds. Her time on Aternum’s streets had effectively killed her gag reflex and any picky habits she may have possessed, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have preferences. Seaweed definitely fell into the “meh” section of those preferences and, coupled with her shrunken appetite and the previous conversation, killed her desire to attempt forcing the rest of the meal down her throat.

Still frowning worriedly, Bickslow got up as well, absently snatching her leftover onigiri and pocketing them for later as he followed her out of the break room. He sped up briefly so as to walk alongside her as they made their way through the restaurant to Aengus’s office. Rihanna shot him a faint smile and idly linked her fingers with his, finding comfort in the touch just as much as Bickslow did.

Reaching Aengus’s office, Rihanna barely managed to stop Bickslow from just walking in. She shot him an exasperated look before pointedly knocking on the door to demonstrate what Bickslow should have done. Bickslow rolled his eyes at her, not caring about the concept of manners anymore than a cat cared about whether or not it shed fur on the carpet. Their silent conversation was interrupted by a loud, boisterous voice calling from within the office, “Well? Don’t stand out there all day! Come on inside already!”

Bickslow jumped slightly at the volume, eyes flickering green before they settled and he obediently opened the door and led the way inside. Aengus looked up from the high pile of paperwork on his desk and beamed at them, “There ye are! I was beginnin’ ta wonder when ye’d show up! How d’ye like working in a restaurant so far?”

Rihanna started to give a smile and a nod to convey appreciation for the job, no matter how it tired her six-year-old frame, when Bickslow spoke up petulantly, “It’s loud, the kitchen is hot, the customers are wimps, and your chief cook is boss- ow!” Rihanna lifted her foot off of Bickslow’s boot, glaring at him menacingly for being so rude. Bickslow glared right back at her, “I wasn’t done talking yet, Wren. Sheesh.” Looking back up at Aengus, who had an eyebrow raised expectantly, Bickslow finished, “Like I was saying, your chief cook is bossy. **But** … it’s okay I guess. It’s better than a lot of other things I can think of anyway…”

Rihanna did her utmost not to be mortified and failed miserably. Did Bickslow have no sense? _You don’t insult your employer and his establishment like that! Not unless you want to be fired, probably without pay if the filler episodes with Team Natsu are correct!_ Rihanna watched in trepidation as Aengus stood up very slowly from behind his desk and stomped around it to stand in front of them, his massive shoulders casting a surprisingly long shadow in the light as he loomed. Rihanna hiccuped air as Bickslow suddenly pulled her behind him, Pappa and Pippi swirling protectively around her head as he prepared to run from the large adult.

The tension in the air built, so much so that Rihanna was fairly certain she could actually see anime lightning bolts darting between Aengus’s and Bickslow’s eyes. The tension hit a crescendo-.

Then fell flat as Aengus burst out laughing, one large hand slapping his knee as he bent double from his booming guffaws, “An honest opinion and no mistake! I like ye lad, that I do! Ha!”

Rihanna felt her eyes widen in surprise at the sudden turn of mood then droop into a deadpan expression, _he did that just to mess with us, didn’t he?_ Bickslow straightened up slowly from his defensive position, head cocking to one side in puzzlement at Aengus’s reaction. Aengus slowly got control over his laughter and stood up, a huge smile splitting his face from underneath his wooly red mustache, “Ye’r Fairy Tail recruits a’right! No mistaking one o’ Makarov’s brood! Though, that was probably a given the moment I heard all the yelling at the customers an’ the explosion in the kitchen.”

Bickslow’s face must have had a sheepish expression because Aengus winked at him, “Aye, I heard all o’ that. But I ain’t gonna dock your pay. Causing a ruckus is a trademark o’ the guild. Ye should be proud ye’r livin’ up ta the reputation already! Oi, Margaret!”

The door opened and Margaret, the restaurant manager who had saved them from ridiculously arduous tasks earlier that day, stepped inside, “Yes, Aengus?”

Aengus motioned to the two children with a finger and wink, “I think we can manage the dinner rush when it comes. Give these two kids their pay an’ let ‘em go.”

Margaret nodded and pulled an envelope out of her pocket, proving that she must have already guessed what Aengus was going to say. Leaning down, she held out the envelope to a baffled Rihanna, “Here, Wren-chan. You carry this and make sure that reckless brother of yours doesn’t lose it before he even gets back to the guild, eh?”

Bickslow bristled, “Hey! Are you calling me stupid?” Pappa and Pippi bobbed indignantly in the air, chorusing the last word of the sentence accusingly.

Margaret started to answer when Aengus beat her to it, “She means no offense, laddie. Margaret here just knows that in every group o’ Fairies that come in here, one of them is the one who still has a touch of sense. That one, despite her age, would be your little sister in this case.”

Bickslow looked like he was going to question what Aengus meant, or maybe protest, but then shut his mouth without a word and nodded grudgingly instead. Rihanna raised an eyebrow as she accepted the envelope and held it close to her chest, not sure what to make of Aengus’s words either. Even if they were true.

Aengus and Margaret bid them goodbye and soon Bickslow and she were on their way back to the guild building, Bickslow holding a map drawn on the back of their job poster and Rihanna clutching their pay. The sun was well past its noon position, but there was still many hours in the day left by Rihanna’s estimation as they walked back, people calling cheerful greetings to the two newest members of Fairy Tail whenever they passed.

Bickslow stayed quiet the entire walk back to the guild, even Pappa and Pippi seemed subdued. Rihanna had no way to break the silence, and no real idea what she would do if she could. It was clear that Bickslow was trying to absorb the enormous differences between the people of Magnolia and the people of Aternum, but she didn’t know how to help him with that. He would just have to see that people were not all the same on his own.

With the map Margaret had kindly drawn for them, it didn’t take them anywhere near as long to get back to the guild as it had to get to the restaurant. The moment they walked in through the doors, they were mobbed by a bouncing Cana and other members who wanted to know how their first job had gone. Bickslow shooed them off with mutters that it was fine and, in Cana’s case, a rowdy insult match that would have ended in pulled hair and flying magic cards if Macao hadn’t managed to separate them in time.

Bickslow slumped down next to Rihanna in a corner of the guild hall, idly chewing on one of the onigiri he’d pocketed earlier as he used one hand to carefully divide their pay into two equal parts with only minimal help from Rihanna and another nearby member. Rihanna was vaguely impressed that Bickslow knew arithmetic, though it did make her wonder what age he’d been when he’d first unlocked his eye magic and been kicked out onto the streets. Old enough to have started school surely.

Bickslow pushed one pile of jewels —which despite their name were neither shiny nor made of stone— over to Rihanna, “Here you go.” Rihanna accepted the pile of bills eagerly, happy to finally have a way of buying food or other necessities at last. Carefully, she folded the bills and tucked them in one of the cargo pockets on her pants, smiling the entire time. Bickslow noticed her smile and gave one of his own, “Good first job?”

Rihanna nodded. Despite the strain of it, it had been a good job. There had been no irreparable disasters, they now had money to buy the things they needed instead of resorting to stealing or asking Makarov, and Bickslow had gotten a good taste of what people who weren’t passively trying to kill him were like. Plus, her headache from using her magic so much had worn off. All in all, it had been a good job and a worthwhile day so far.

Seeing her nod, Bickslow shifted to watch the other guild members, most of whom were now spontaneously brawling over who had won the latest arm-wrestling match, his smile still hovering on his lips. Pappa and Pippi settled near his shoulders and, though he never spoke, Rihanna was sure she knew what he was thinking.

He was thinking that maybe joining Fairy Tail really was good thing after all.


	8. School and Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Three weeks after Chap 6)
> 
>  
> 
> (Three weeks, four days since joining Guild)

 

Rihanna exploded out the doors like a startled cat, heading the stampede out the doors as the bell rang to signify the end to a terrible portion of the day. **_Freedom_** _!_ Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Bickslow practically bowling other kids over as he made his way toward her, Pappa hovering high over the crowd and leading its master straight to her.

Bickslow came into full view and he promptly grabbed her wrist so as not to lose her in the crowd again. In any other circumstance, the frazzled look on his face would have been funny. As it was, Rihanna could only sympathize and assume a similar look was etched onto her features.

Working together, they managed to push their way to the edge of the people flow and escape to a corner of the yard. Panting slightly, Rihanna gave a silent groan and leaned heavily against a tree, using her free hand to rub one temple wearily, _and I thought elementary school was bad the first time around … At least it only lasts four hours instead of the entire day this time._ Perks of only having to attend school from seven A.M. to eleven aside, going to elementary school for a second time was absolute murder for her nerves.

For the thousandth time since Makarov had sternly insisted that the two of them would be attending a local school that catered to mage children as well as civilian, Rihanna took back every nasty thought she had ever held against college midterms, and the professors in charge of said midterms. For the hundredth time, she also took back every unkind thought she had ever had about the complicated courses college boasted, the tuition fees for attending college, and the party-crazy girls who had lived in the dorm room next to hers. If she had a choice between what she was going through now and what she’d had to deal with back then, she would go back to college in an instant, no questions asked.

Because whatever anyone else said, college had **nothing** on the purgatory that was kindergarten.

A group of children from said class went by and their shrieks of laughter and colorful clothes made Rihanna cringe away. She shamelessly hid behind Bickslow in an effort to remain unnoticed by the hyper-active hellions. Seeing her reaction, Bickslow protectively shifted to better hide her presence until the group was out of direct line-of-sight. He glanced down at her, “You too, huh?”

Rihanna, too mentally frazzled to utilize the more complicated aspects of their developing hand/body/whistling language, simply gave an over-exaggerated shiver down her entire body. Kindergarten was … too boring, too baffling, and too loud all at the same time somehow. The children were inquisitive and bouncy with attention spans that at times made a gnat look scholarly. The teacher talked down to Rihanna like she was a child —which admittedly wasn’t the teacher’s fault because she only looked a year older than the kindergarteners— but was still annoying beyond belief. Most of all, while the classes were inherently unentertaining for her adult mind, Rihanna still found herself struggling to an embarrassing degree.

Having an entirely different —and so much **simpler** — writing system already crammed in her head was doing her no favors in learning the Japanese writing language. It was like suddenly trying to teach a cat to bark or a large dog to climb trees. It just … didn’t work. Her memorization skills were alright, but naturalizing the process of mentally translating hiragana to English letters, then from Japanese words to English ones was long and frustrating.

Then there was writing sequence and grammatical structure. She’d lost count of how many times she’d written something from left to right instead of the teacher’s specifically instructed top to bottom or written a short sentence in what basically amounted to Yoda speak just because she kept slipping into english grammatical habits.

Add on top of those frustrations the teacher severely underestimating her intelligence because she was a child and a mute, the perpetual curiosity of the other kindergarteners about the “mute mage girl”, and her recent inability to get a decent night’s sleep and all in all the resulting experience was beyond miserable.

Seeing her full-body shiver, Bickslow nodded understandingly, his lips twisting down as he glanced over that the children who were his grade-mates but not his age-mates. Rihanna felt a pang of sympathy for Bickslow. In a way, he was having just as hard a time as she. He was the only twelve-year-old in a class of eight-year-olds and that attracted attention. Even if his class-mates didn’t seem to mind him terribly and he wasn’t completely friendless there —Cana was in his class after all— his status as a third-grader got a lot of ridicule from the other children in higher grades.

Perhaps it didn’t seem that bad compared to forcing a former college student to attend kindergarten, but without an adult’s mind and maturity to ignore petty childish bullying, third-grade was just as stressful for Bickslow as kindergarten was for Rihanna. Reaching out, Rihanna gently patted Bickslow’s arm, offering mutual support and comfort for the boy she had started internally calling a brother.

Together, the two began hurrying out of the schoolyard, avoiding the civilian children who still had to stay in school for another three hours after the lunch/recess period. Somewhere in the quick dash to escape, Cana joined them, her expression a sour one that Rihanna had learned meant Bickslow did something to displease the older girl in class again. Internally, Rihanna groaned. Bickslow was —as they had all recently discovered over the course of the last two weeks— a budding genius at revenge pranks. He also had a particular grudge against his homeroom teacher for some reason and he took every opportunity to make trouble for the man.

_In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to include Bickslow in my gymnastics exercises._ She cocked her head to one side as she pondered that for a moment before shrugging to herself, _in “future sight” on the other hand, any added edge I can give him is a good thing. Besides, he likes it so much, I just can’t take it away now._ “What’cha thinking about, _Imōto_?”

Rihanna blinked at Bickslow, honestly surprised that he had found time to ask. She’d been fairly certain that Cana and Bickslow would be well into one of their arguments now that the schoolyard was out of sight. She glanced briefly at Cana, who was still glowering, then back to Bickslow and shrugged, unable to express what had been on her mind. Cana’s expression changed slightly as Bickslow frowned down at Rihanna, “Not too tired are you? Last night…”

His voice trailed off as he became aware of Cana on his other side once again. Cana looked from Bickslow to Rihanna, confused concern taking precedence over whatever Bickslow’s latest crime was, “You two are still staying in the guild building, right? Did something happen last night?”

Bickslow scowled at Cana before Rihanna nudged him in a silent reminder to be polite. Shifting his schoolbag uncomfortably on his shoulder, Bickslow finally admitted, “Wren has nightmares. She’s had them off and on for years, but they’ve been getting worse lately.”

Cana made a troubled noise, “Really? That stinks. What are they about?”

Bickslow stared at the cobblestones and replied gruffly that he didn’t really know, but Rihanna wasn’t really listening anymore. Just the mention of her nightmares had sent her mind shooting back to the latest one. Bickslow was right to say that they were getting worse, but he was also wrong. The nightmares weren’t getting worse in that they were changing into something more terrifying than the previous ones, they were just the same images becoming clearer and more vivid with each repetition.

A crawling sensation ran up her arms as Rihanna unwillingly remembered the nightmares. They weren’t ones of her previous home. Those barely counted as bad dream compared to the nightmares to which Bickslow was referring. These were random ones she could not determine the origin of. There were two nightmares of particular note, one of which she had suffered far more vividly than ever before the previous night.

The first one was always running. Running through dense surroundings, possibly a forest, so fast and so far her lungs would burn like fire. The air would be heavy and clouded with a foul-smelling fog, her arms would sting with cuts and scrapes as she heedlessly plowed onward, trying to reach something before it was too late.

In that nightmare she knew what she was running toward, but she always forgot once she woke up. No details would come to her on why she was running save for the unshakable belief that whatever she was running toward was fragile, precious, and completely irreplaceable. Whatever it was, in the nightmare she was always running in order to reach the precious thing, in order to save it.

The nightmarish part was the fact that no matter how hard she ran, how many times she was forced to retread the path through the foggy maze, how hard she fought the obstacles in her path … she was always, **always** too late. By the time she got there, the precious thing would be broken, or gone —she wasn’t sure which while conscious— and she’d wake up knowing that she had failed. Failed to protect, failed to save, failed and lost a part of herself because of it.

It was the first of the unusual nightmares that she had ever experienced and had remained the worst until the second of the two most notable nightmares had emerged from her subconscious shortly after joining Fairy Tail.

The second nightmare, which was the one she had experienced last night, would start deceptively peacefully.

She would be wandering in a town she didn’t recognize, filled with people she didn’t know but somehow felt fondness for anyway. There would be laughter, and muffled speech, and everything would be pleasant. Then, in a heartbeat, somewhere between one sluggish dream thought and the next, the town would be empty. Not burned, or ruined, or damaged in anyway, but … empty. All life would disappear from it. Every animal, every person, every man, every woman, young, old, or child. Gone. She would try to find them, her feet carrying her against her will through the streets in search of the missing life only to find another fog similar to the one in the Running Nightmare.

But this fog didn’t smell lung-burningly foul. It smelled unbearably sweet and was tainted a dull red that coated her vision and got her lost within the marsh it hid. The marsh wasn’t deep and didn’t try to suck her in like she would have expected of the nightmare, it just sucked at the bottom of her shoes and tripped her with hidden abrupt rises in the soft ground and unstable shifting of the surface underfoot.

Eventually, some part of her mind would realize what was wrong with the marsh. She would look down to confirm and see something horrific beyond anything she’d ever seen or imagined before, something that made her recoil and scream and run, stumbling madly to get away from it all because the marsh was really-.

Then Rihanna would wake up, lungs pushing out air frantically in an effort to vent her terror as screams, body shaking, eyes wide, adrenaline hammering through her veins as if she’d just run a marathon. Unable to remember what the marsh really was, yet with terror still clinging to her every gasp.

It was a good thing that Bickslow and she still stayed in the same room at night, she honestly wasn’t sure what she would have done if the precious boy hadn’t been there every time she woke up. Hadn’t been there to remind her that everything was okay and that something precious to her wasn’t gone or that the unspeakable horror of the marsh wasn’t real. Despite being the younger of them mentally, Bickslow was good at soothing her nightmares. Perhaps it was because as a child he instinctively understood the power of being held tight by a loved one and listening to the nonsense murmurs of a familiar voice.

Ironically, it was because of the nightmares and Bickslow’s unfaltering desire to comfort her about them that Rihanna had one day woken up to discover herself thinking about Bickslow as her brother just as he saw her as his sister. But that was the only good thing that came out of the entire process.

A gentle shake of a hand on her shoulder brought her out of her hazy thoughts on nightmares and dragged her back to the present. Bickslow moved his hand from her shoulder to ruffle her hair, “Stop looking so down, Wren! Makarov-jiji said he had a special job in mind for us today, remember?”

Cana huffed and placed her hands on her hips, “Don’t call him that! It’s disrespectful to address the Master of the guild so familiarly! Besides, after what you pulled in class, Master might change his mind about this ‘special job’.”

Bickslow automatically retorted something with a tongue-grin, but Rihanna spotted the faint flinch in Bickslow’s shoulders at Cana’s use of the word “Master” and the threat of losing the special job.

Bickslow was slowly warming up to Master Makarov and the rest of the guild, but he adamantly refused to call the old guild leader by the word Bickslow associated with slavery and cruelty. Rihanna knew that it was actually a sign of respect that Bickslow called the Master “Makarov-jiji”, because it spoke of familiarity and **trust**. But that trust was still fragile and Cana was unintentionally threatening it.

For once, Rihanna turned her fully-honed adult glare on Cana and got her attention with a low hiss. Cana took one look at the heavy, disapproving glower and hunched her shoulders defensively, “I’m just saying!” Rihanna refused to relent, continuing to glare at Cana until the girl finally caved, “Fine. I’m sorry. Whatever I said to upset you, I’m sorry.” Rihanna slowly let up on her frown, still unhappy because Cana was apologizing to her and not Bickslow. _Still, better than nothing._

Seeing that Rihanna’s frown was no longer aimed in her direction, Cana muttered, “Sheesh. You’d think I insulted you two or something.”

Bickslow snipped back immediately, his guild mark flashing into view briefly as he wagged his tongue as he answered, “Well no one asked for your opinion, shark!”

Cana’s hands inched menacingly toward her little purse that contained her weaponized tarot cards, “I’ve told you again and again to not call me that! I’m not a shark! I don’t even look like one!”

Bickslow’s responding tongue-grin was decidedly mocking, “No, but you **are** a card shark.” Pappa and Pippi took up the accusation by chanting “card shark!” repeatedly and Rihanna rubbed her face with a hand in exasperation, _Oh for the love of Pantherlily, here we go again._

Cana sputtered, as enraged at being called a “card shark” or just “shark” as she had the first time Bickslow had come up with the nickname two and a half weeks ago, “At least I didn’t use lasers to set fire to the teacher’s desk today!” _He did what?_

Rihanna threw an incredulous look at Bickslow, who didn’t notice as he bickered with Cana, “For the last time, that was accident! Pappa and Pippi act weird when I’m bored!”

Cana crossed her arms over her chest and puffed her cheeks at Bickslow, “And the water balloons filled with soy sauce and mayonnaise that just happened to come flying out of nowhere when the teacher opened his top desk drawer?”

Bickslow looked away, stubbornly refusing eye contact as he sniffed, “That could have been anyone’s prank. I’m not the only troublemaker in the class, you know.”

Cana’s shriek attracted a few stares from other passersby, “But you still admit to being a troublemaker in the first place? What kind of logic is that?”

Rihanna felt her patience —already thinned due to the stress of kindergarten purgatory and nightmare-induced insomnia— wear dangerously close to the breaking point. Reaching out to Bickslow’s and Cana’s shadows, she made the left hands of the shadows firmly cuff their originators on the heads. Both children yelped and clutched their heads with their hands, gazes whipping around to look behind them. Spotting the shadow hands hovering threateningly at their backs, they turned to look at Rihanna.

Rihanna leveled a death glare at them, one eyelid drooping half-shut so that the gaze underneath it was honed like a laser while the eyebrow of her other eye crept menacingly upward, silently warning them to tone down the bickering or suffer the consequences.

Bickslow whined a bit, “But Wren! She started it!” Cana opened her mouth, no doubt about to refute Bickslow’s claim, when Rihanna twitched her fingers and let the shadow tendrils brush the backs of their necks menacingly. Cana’s mouth snapped shut with a click and Bickslow swallowed faintly, protests dying on their lips. Though she did her best not to interfere with the two’s budding love-hate friendship or use her steadily developing Shadow Magic against them, there were times when their arguments became too much and she resorted to using her magic to break it up.

Both Cana and Bickslow had learned very quickly not to provoke Rihanna when the tendrils of shadows started showing up. She might not have been a powerhouse like the not-yet-joined Natsu or Erza or even Gray, but Rihanna’s Shadow Magic had quickly proved itself to be much faster and harder to dodge than either cards or tiki dolls. Plus, her Macao dubbed “Shadow Slap” wasn’t exactly a painless experience and when Rihanna’s temper had finally worn thin enough to use it, she used it to great effect.

It helped that her control and power-levels were steadily increasing because of the daily training regimen Master Makarov had given her.

Rihanna continued to level her death glare at the two until she was certain they had gotten the point. With one last menacing pat to their heads via animate shadows, she turned her focus back to the road ahead of her and allowed Cana’s and Bickslow’s shadows to return to normal. Next to her, there was blessed silence for all of two minutes before Bickslow muttered, “Card Shark.”

Cana screeched like a cat that had been stepped on, one hand whipping out a lightning card to wave threateningly at Bickslow, “What did you just call me?”

Bickslow sneered at Cana, his tikis cheerfully chanting “Card Shark! Card Shark!” while he replied snidely, “I **said** , card shark. You got a problem with that, **Shark**?”

Cana yelled in rage and tried to slam her lightning card onto Bickslow’s face. Bickslow dodged by bending over backwards in a flawless display of flexibility, retaliated by sending Pappa and Pippi flying at Cana’s head. Cana ducked under the tiki dolls and lunged for Bickslow again, one hand reaching into her purse for another card as Bickslow danced away from her with a mocking laugh.

Rihanna managed to keep the fraying threads of her temper intact for about a minute, during which she utilized her gymnastics skills to dodge tiki dolls, cards with various magical effects, and two screeching children.

Then an errant laser set fire to a nearby storefront awning and Rihanna’s remaining threads of patience for the two bickering children snapped.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

If Master Makarov had any thoughts as to why, when Rihanna, Bickslow, and Cana returned from school, Bickslow and Cana were soaking wet and meekly following an irate-looking Rihanna, he wisely kept them to himself. Instead he gently shooed Cana deeper into the guild building to find a towel before motioning for Bickslow and Rihanna to follow him. Rihanna barely spared Bickslow a glance as they left the guild hall and began making their way down a vaguely familiar set of hallways and stairs.

Bickslow didn’t say a word despite his eagerness, his spiky blue hair still weighed down with water so that it drooped into his face and around his ears. Pappa and Pippi bobbed by his shoulders, not making a peep as Master Makarov led them through the upper depths of the guild building and ushered them into a room. _Oh, his office. That’s what those hallways led to._ Stepping inside, Rihanna blinked once in surprise at the sight of Mest leaning against the wall by a large window.

Mest spotted them as they entered and smiled warmly, “Wren-chan, Bickslow-kun. How was school?” Wren scowled darkly, not in the mood to rehash school via pantomime. She was still repairing her self-restraint after losing her temper at Bickslow and Cana.

Bickslow gave Mest an answering mumble, “Terrible. The teachers are annoying and the other kids are stupid.” Glancing at Master Makarov, who had shut the door firmly and was ambling toward his desk, Bickslow whined, “Do we have to keep going to school, Makarov-jiji? Can’t we just skip? Or transfer to a magic-only school?”

Master Makarov shook his head firmly, “I am sorry, Bickslow, but no. For one, Wren-chan needs to learn how to read and how to do arithmetic. For another, magic schools only take students who have learned certain skills in a normal school first. Neither of you have met the requirement level yet. So you will just have to bear with it for now.” He paused and blinked dryly at Bickslow, “Though you know Bickslow, your teachers might be less ‘annoying’ if you didn’t prank them so much.”

Bickslow hunched his shoulders and muttered something under his breath. Master Makarov shook his head and dropped the subject, he already knew that scolding Bickslow over the pranks would be a pointless endeavor. Instead, he turned to the reason for which he had led them to his office, “Alright, listen up you two, Mest is going out on a job and he needs the help of at least one child, preferably more. He thought that you two might be interested in assisting him.”

Rihanna tilted her head in silent curiosity while Bickslow asked, “He needs our help? Why?”

Master Makarov nodded to Mest wordlessly and Mest straightened up from his position by the window to explain, “A request came in today for help escorting a noble’s two sons from Magnolia to Suisen. It isn’t that far of a journey, no more than two days or so to get there by carriage, but there have been reports of magic-wielding bandits staking out the road between Magnolia and Suisen.”

Mest ran a hand through his hair as he shrugged, “He’s afraid of bandits robbing the carriage or taking his sons for ransom. The request specifically noted that one of the boys has a tendency to try to slip away from his normal bodyguards because he gets bored, so I thought if his bodyguards were the right age to be his playmates too…” _He wouldn’t try to escape from them because he’d be happy playing with them. Clever. There are a few holes in the strategy, but clever._

Bickslow cocked his head to one side, “So … you want us to go with you and help you keep an eye on the kids by … playing with them? Would that even work? I mean, Wren’s a mute and I’m…” Bickslow’s voice trailed off and one hand drifted up to his facial tattoo.

Mest shot Bickslow a sympathetic look while Rihanna felt some of her lingering bad temper at Bickslow drain away in exchange for a desire to comfort him. Master Makarov gave a rumbling hum, “You’ll never know which people can be your friends if you don’t go out to meet them, Bickslow.” Bickslow gave Master Makarov an unsure look, to which Master Makarov just raised an eyebrow patiently. Bickslow then looked over at Rihanna, who tilted her head as she considered it.

The job sounded interesting, if a little intimidating because it would require being on the road for at least four days, but Master Makarov had a point about Bickslow learning to step out of his shell and she trusted Mest to take care of any bandits should they show up. _Why not? It will be an adventure. Plus, it will keep me out of kindergarten for a few days._ Rihanna nodded her approval at Bickslow, who then studied the floor for an answer of his own before finally asking, “What’s the reward?”

Mest reached into a pocket and pulled out a poster. Unfolding it, he glanced over it briefly before answering, “Five hundred thousand jewels.” Rihanna and Bickslow both stared and Mest gave a helpless gesture, “The noble is rich and he’s worried about his sons. Guess he figures that the higher the reward, the higher a chance of getting good guards for his kids.” _Five hundred thousand jewels? That’s over ten times the highest reward Bickslow and I have ever gotten!_

Wordlessly, Bickslow and Rihanna shared a glance. Upon Master Makarov’s gentle recommendation, the two had started to save up their jewels in preparation to buy a place to live. Rihanna had originally thought the suggestion ridiculous because, honestly, who trusted twelve and six year olds to know how to budget and pay bills? But Master Makarov had gone more in depth upon his suggestion, explaining that the two could not stay indefinitely in the guild building and so they had to either go to the orphanage, find a place to rent or buy someplace.

Another option was for Rihanna to rent a place in Fairy Hills, the girls-only guild dormitory while Bickslow rented or purchased his own place, but both Rihanna and Bickslow had shot down the idea immediately. Bickslow was overprotective of his little sister and, quite frankly, Rihanna was just as attached to Bickslow as he was to her. Three years of having only one person in the whole world to trust made it surprisingly difficult to tolerate being separated from that person.

With Fairy Hills out of the equation that left finding an apartment or dwelling that could accommodate two. This had earned an entirely new explanation from Master Makarov when Rihanna had finally managed to express her concerns about how two children could successfully own a house. How were two children supposed to manage a budget? Pay bills? All the while taking jobs and going to school?

The answer, according to Master Makarov, was that they didn’t. The guild did.

Because of Fairy Tail’s tendency to acquire young members who were without family or other responsible adults to look after them, the previous Master had long ago instituted a way to help out the ones who refused to go to an orphanage or were boys and couldn’t go to Fairy Hills. All members seventeen and under, when they saved enough jewels to make the initial payment and had selected their chosen dwelling, would turn over a waiver signed by the guild Master to either the landlord —if it was a rented place— or the companies in charge of electricity/plumbing/etc —if it was being purchased permanently—. The waiver would essentially inform the landlord or companies to send all bills to Fairy Tail instead of the child and the bills would then be payed for out of the Guild Treasury.

Rihanna had been reluctantly impressed with the process, even if she could easily imagine all the ways it could go wrong.

Of course, in order to support this program and keep the Guild Treasury from going bankrupt, all Fairy Tail members had to pay a membership fee. The fee was a percentage taken out of each reward, five percent for members thirteen and under, ten percent for fourteen and up.

Master Makarov had agreed to withhold demanding a membership fee from them until they had a place of their own and together Bickslow and Rihanna had almost gotten enough jewels together to start looking. Now Mest was asking them to accompany him on a job with a reward that, even if divided 60/40 rather than 50/50, they’d still get two hundred thousand jewels out of it. Easily enough to fill out their home-hunting fund.

As if sensing the direction their thoughts were taking, Mest said easily, “We’ll split the reward in thirds of course. I’ve taken several high-ranked jobs recently, so I don’t mind. Besides, it would only be fair.”

Bickslow and Rihanna shifted their stares to Mest, both silently weighing his words. Bickslow bit his bottom lip briefly, then nodded, “Okay. We’ll do it.”

Mest’s face broke into an easy smile, “Perfect! The job starts tomorrow. Meet me at the front entrance at six in the morning, okay?”

Both of them nodded and Mest cheerfully teleported away instead of exiting the room through the door like a normal person. As Bickslow and Rihanna made to leave as well, Master Makarov spoke up, “I’ll contact the school and inform them of your absence. Good luck on your job.” Rihanna watched Bickslow glance over his shoulder at Master Makarov, eyes flickering green for a moment. What Bickslow saw in Master Makarov’s colors, he never said, but a look of surprise flashed over his features because of it. The surprise was followed quickly by a faint blush at the tips of Bickslow’s ears and a tentative smile as he hurried out of the office to go find a towel. Rihanna followed Bickslow before turning aside to go back to the guild hall, internally wondering what was going to happen on the job with Mest starting the next day.

_Why do I get the feeling that this job is going to be way more of an adventure than it sounds?_ Rihanna stepped through the door into the guild hall and promptly had to dodge into the shadows to avoid getting flattened by a flying table. She felt her eyebrow twitch as she exited the shadows and made a dive to hide behind the bar instead, ducking and weaving through the massive daily brawl with rapidly-honing skill. _Right, because I’m part of Fairy Tail now. The job is probably doomed._


End file.
